Contents

Title

Rights

Warning

Title.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Also by Jessica Gadziala

About the Author

Stalk Her

H O L D

H I M

L I K E

G R A V I T Y

—

Jessica Gadziala

Copyright © 2024 Jessica Gadziala

All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author's intellectual property. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for brief quotations used in a book review.

"This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental."

Cover image credit: Shutterstock .com/ Aloha Hawaii

“None of this book was written using AI tools. Each word was crafted with human hands.”

Warning:

This book contains depictions of mental and physical abuse from a previous intimate partner that may be triggering to some readers.

If you are suffering abuse at the hands of an intimate partner, you are not alone. And there is help.

The National Domestic Violence Hotline:

800-799-7233

H O L D

H I M

L I K E

G R A V I T Y

CHAPTER ONE

Rico

When the fuck did meat get so goddamn expensive?

Here I was, trying to give the neighborhood a break since life had been beating ‘em all down for decades now, and the fucking suppliers raised their prices by twenty-seven percent over the past year.

And, shit, I got it. The cost of feed had gone up for them. These weren’t massive factory farms making millions a year. I got my meat from smaller farms that gave a shit about their animals and fed ‘em good food, so the end product was higher quality.

It just sucked that a small portion of that increase had to be meted out to the consumer when I’d been trying to keep costs down since I took over the meat shop.

The thing was, we didn’t even need the money. The shop was, obviously, a front. A way to wash our money. Keep the IRS man off our backs. That kinda shit. But we had to seem like we were making a profit on paper, so I had to increase prices.

And the increase just so happened to coincide with some renovations that were about to go into effect, so customers were naturally going to assume the increase was to pay for them.

I sighed, pushing the keyboard away from me then leaning back in my chair, staring up at some stain on the ceiling that had been there since I’d started running this place.

Another thing to bring up to the contractors who should be showing up at any moment.

“That bad, huh?” a voice said, making me turn toward the doorway to find one of my employees standing there.

She was the newest addition, hired by the guy I had in charge of that kind of thing. No one working at the meat shop was in the family because we were trying as hard as possible to make the place seem legitimate.

I wondered on more than one occasion if this chick had been hired because of all the pretty she had to throw around.

The meat shop was, well, a sausage fest most of the time. Apparently, there was some antiquated, sexist rule that men only wanted to buy meat from other men or some shit like that.

Working for a mafia family that had female mafia capos that were every bit as capable—if not more—than many of their male counterparts, that shit was whacked to me.

But we had to keep business coming in, so I let it slide that this girl was the only woman working in the entire building. And that, in general, they mostly had her stocking the cases or making sandwiches.

The irony wasn’t lost on me.

But, yeah, she was a fucking knockout.

I won’t lie, it was nice to see some pretty walking around the shop. And she had that in spades.

She was short, even for a chick, with a little soft around the hip, ass, and tits, but pretty compact otherwise. It was the face that really got your attention, though. Sleepy-looking hazel eyes, long hair dyed a deep burgundy color, pouty lips, and if you were up close enough, you could see a smattering of freckles over her nose and cheeks.

And, I shit you not, the woman always smelled like blueberry jam. Fucking blueberry jam. Even after a long shift.

I could smell her even then, clear across the room.

She had her long hair pulled back into a ponytail and her eye makeup had smudged a bit under her eyes.

She’d been here since opening but had stayed behind to do some of the deep cleaning I’d demanded be done before the construction started.

“Think people would object to turning the place into a beans and rice shop?” I asked, getting a bemused smile and a head tilt out of her. “Would be cheaper,” I added.

“Pretty sure a black bean parm wouldn’t be a popular sandwich,” she said.

“Prolly right. You heading out?”

“Yeah. Everything is done. Well, no. I have to take the trash to the dumpster.”

“No. Leave it. I’ll do it.”

“Is this a ‘little women shouldn’t be going into dark alleys at night’ thing?” she asked, brows raising.

Sometimes, she would say some shit that reminded me of the female capos I worked with. I once heard her threaten to put a man’s hand through a meat grinder, then make him a sandwich with it, and make him eat it. He’d grabbed her ass with that hand, so he had it coming.

But I liked the sass.

More than I probably should, given that I was her boss.

“Fuck yeah, it is,” I said, nodding, just wanting to get a rise out of her.

If anyone was hanging out in my alley, they’d get their asses handed to ‘em and they knew it. It was safe enough for her to be out there.

“I worked at an all-night bodega in the Bronx before this,” she told me, chin lifting defiantly. “Nothing in that alley could scare me.”

“Maybe not, but I’m pretty sure we don’t got a step stool out there to help you reach the dumpster,” I said, getting a little laugh out of her.

“That’s… fair. But I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t be having my boss do my job for me.”

“Pretty sure you should listen to your boss when he tells you to do something,” I shot back as I got to my feet and made my way across the room. “Go home, Kick. It’s late.”

Up close, the blueberry scent was almost overwhelming. I was so distracted by that that I almost missed the way her eyelids went heavier and her lips parted at the sound of her name on my lips.

Fuck.

Yeah, I didn’t need my only female employee having the hots for me. No matter how much I wanted to drag her into my office, shut the door, bend her over the desk, yank down her pants, and…

Damnit.

Nope.

Couldn’t even let my mind go there. It was an HR nightmare.

True, I was HR in this case. But still.

“Alright,” she agreed, giving me a tight nod and scurrying back a few feet, leaving her blueberry scent in her wake as she moved out of the back room, into the shop, and, I assumed, out the front door.

“Eye-fucking the employees, Rico?” a voice asked, making me turn to find one of those female capos I’d been thinking about standing there.

Saff was younger than a lot of us, but had the ambition and balls to make her seem older. You wouldn’t know by looking at her that she went toe-to-toe with some of the nastiest men on the planet and won.

She was short as fuck with these comically small feet, a deceptively delicate-looking heart-shaped face with big light brown eyes, freckles, and a Cupid’s bow mouth. The only things giving all that soft and sweet an edge were her nose ring and the fact that she had electric blue hair. She had it pulled back in fucking bubble braids right then. Likely pulled back so it didn’t get all bloodied like her knuckles and the corner of her shirt.

“Someone catcall you again?” I asked, looking her over.

“Someone didn’t have my money. Again,” she said, rolling her eyes.

We all had issues over the years with fuckers trying to stiff us. But Saff got more than her fair share. Likely because of her aforementioned smallness.

Those guys learned real quick, though, that Saff had an almost psychotic kind of anger. With a goddamn hair trigger.

“Something that needs to be looked into?”

“I can handle my own shit,” Saff said, chin jutting out.

“Know that. But last time there was a trend of people not paying, it turned out it was something serious.”

“It’s not like that. Apparently, he owed his baby mama, like, thousands in back child support. But he’d been working off the books so nothing could get garnished.”

“Real fucking prince.”

“Yeah, I know,” Saff said, shaking her head. “But that woman knew his game, broke into his place, and stole his cash. I may or may not have beat the shit out of him for myself and her. His deadbeat ass can work five jobs for all I care to start paying what he owes her and us. I gave him a week. And a face so ugly that he won’t be knocking anyone else up for a while.”

“Good. So whatcha doing here?”

“Renz said you are starting construction here tonight. Figured you might want a set of eyes around. You know, make sure they’re behaving themselves.”

One of the members of a former rival family, the Costas, had started up a construction business. To wash their money, sure, but also to have a company that could be trusted to do work on all their own homes.

It was always a risk to bring anyone into your home or business. The cops were sneaky as fuck. They brought down some big dons back in the day by posing as cable repairmen, sneaking in, and placing bugs.

And that was back when bugs were bigger and harder to hide and with shitty battery lives.

Now? Those things were damn near invisible and could go on forever.

Hiring anyone on the outside to do anything was taking a big chance. Especially at a place like the meat shop, where we frequently engaged in family business and, even more often, talked about it.

So, when I told Renzo, the boss, that I wanted to spruce the place up, and that I didn’t exactly want to do all the work myself, his wife, Lore—a former Costa herself—had suggested we outsource to the Costas.

I’ll admit, I wasn’t exactly a supporter of Renzo’s plan to use a marriage to a Costa woman to bring an end to the feud that had existed between our families since Lorenzo Costa had taken over for his father a while back.

Sure, I liked Lore. And I was happy our boss was in love with her and shit. But I have to say that the distrust of the Costas did still simmer inside of me a lot of the time.

Clearly, Saff felt the same way.

Though, to be fair, Saff was always looking for an enemy to rail against.

“Dunno if it’ll look good if we babysit ‘em,” I said, going to the front to grab the money out of the safe. Not because the Costas would steal from us—the fuckers had enough money—but because men would be in and out and someone desperate might decide to sneak in and grab something that didn’t belong to them.

“Who cares what it looks like?” Saff said, rolling her eyes.

“Renzo, I imagine. They’re his in-laws.”

“I mean… if I remember their family tree, Anthony is only a cousin or something like that. Not one of Lore’s many brothers.”

“Still,” I said, shoving the cash into a bag to drop at the bank machine on the way home.

“Did you at least put some cameras up?”

“For what?”

“To make sure they don’t bug the place.”

“No more cameras than usual,” I said, going back into my office to grab anything I didn’t want getting covered in paint or dust. “They don’t have their sights set on Brooklyn. They have no reason to bug the place.”

“When did you get so soft?” Saff asked, following me as I piled the shit I was taking on a prep table, then grabbed the trash bags I’d told Kick to leave for me to handle.

Saff didn’t grab one.

I refuse to make any man’s life easier, she’d once said when someone asked why she hadn’t helped Elian clean up at a gathering at Renzo’s place.

And, hey, you had to respect that.

“Don’t think it’s soft to accept the wishes of our boss, kid,” I said, just to fuck with her. She hated being reminded that she was younger than the rest of us.

“Fine. Get bugged, stolen from, and arrested,” she said, leaning back against the wall in the alley, watching me walk back and forth to get rid of the garbage.

“Your concern for me is touching,” I said, shooting her a smirk as we moved back into the building.

“I am not above visiting you in the pen to tell you I told you so,” she said, eyes twinkling.

“Know you won’t. Go on, get home. Clean up those knuckles. Don’t wanna get infected,” I said, hearing the knock at the front door at that exact moment.

“Alright,” she agreed, but followed me out to the front of the shop, then waited for me to open the door to let the contractors in, only to step in their way.

“Are you going to move or what?” she asked, making me snort as Anthony Costa stepped too far to the side and whacked himself against the frame in the process.

“She’s charming, right, guys?” I asked, getting some chuckles from them and two middle fingers from Saff as she walked backward out of the door, shooting me a smile.

“Ready for us to get to work?” Anthony asked as he moved inside.

Some part of me was concerned about being closed down for a week to get this place redone. Worried that I would lose business. Like it fucking mattered.

The thing was… it kind of did.

And for someone who’d been a ‘family’ man for his whole life, it was weird as fuck to care about anything else.

“Yep,” I agreed.

CHAPTER TWO

Kick

“Hold on, you little jerk,” I called through my apartment door as I stabbed my key in the lock.

Through it, I could hear the long, plaintive wail of a cat who sounded like his tail was caught in a garbage disposal.

“You’re going to wake up the whole building,” I called, slamming and locking my door, tossing my keys into the bowl, then rushing across the apartment with my purse still on my shoulder.

I yanked open the window, letting the cat in off of the fire escape.

He wasn’t mine.

Or, maybe, he was?

Honestly, I had no idea what he did after his shrieking made me stumble out of bed at dawn to open the window and let him back out onto the fire escape.

Maybe he had a home, people who fed and loved on him. That he didn’t scratch to shit each time they tried to touch him.

Or maybe he was a street cat who found a sucker in me, who enjoyed some premium cat food, a saucer of milk, and a warm—or cold—place to hide from the elements for a bit.

I didn’t know.

It didn’t matter.

“Evander,” I said, nodding at the tortie cat as he made his way in, half-bitten off ear and all.

Admittedly, he’d gotten rather tubby since I’d been feeding him. But, hey, winter was upon us. We could all use some extra padding to get through the cold. Or, at least, that was what I’d been telling myself each night I got home to make myself three grilled cheese sandwiches that I may or may not have followed up with ice cream bars in front of my TV.

“Do you need to shriek?” I asked him as he leapt up onto the counter to sit and stare at his empty bowl. “I clearly wasn’t home yet,” I added, walking to put my purse on the hook, reaching inside for the cash tips I’d gotten but hadn’t had a chance to tally at work.

One-ten.

Not bad, considering my job wasn’t exactly the kind that required tips. What can I say? I learned from a young age that if you chatted up the older neighborhood guys, they were happy to slip an extra twenty to you just for being nice to them.

Kind of pathetic, if you ask me, but, hey, it kept the very expensive cat food in Evander’s stomach. While I ate plastic ‘cheese’ on cheap white bread.

“Really?” I asked as I heard something fly off the counter and clatter to the ground. “I’m coming. Jesus.”

I opened up his can of wet cat food that always made me gag a little, then plopped it down into the bowl I’d found myself popping into the pet store for after the third night he’d shown up at my window. Along with a bed. And some toys. He hated the bed. And preferred to entertain himself by shredding the side of my couch with his viciously sharp nails.

“Happy?” I asked as he moved in to start eating. “It’s not like you really need it, you chonk,” I said as I grabbed the milk and poured some into the other side of his bowl.

I’d learned at that same pet store that I really wasn’t supposed to give cats milk. But Evander really didn’t give a single shit what the lady at the pet store had to say about his unhealthy milk habit. So, yeah, he got his damn milk each night.

“What should I have?” I asked as I pulled open my mostly-empty fridge. “I only have enough cheese slices for one sandwich,” I told him, as if he gave a damn about what I ate. He’d probably be totally fine with me starving to death then feasting on me afterward. Cats were heartless little assholes that way. I liked that about them.

With a sigh, I went into the freezer to pull out one of those frozen single serving pizzas, tossing it into the microwave. Nope, not even a toaster oven. I had a gummy crust ahead of me. Real fine dining over in my dingy little apartment.

What can I say?

I’d left the Bronx with almost no money in my pocket and only the shit I could grab in a mad rush to get the fuck out of there.

Starting over never got easy.

It was harder when you left two-thirds of everything you owned behind.

I’d been lucky to nab the job at the meat shop. Honestly, I’d walked in to get an application out of sheer desperation, not thinking they’d actually hire me since everyone who worked there was a guy.

But, thank God, the manager had taken pity on me and given me a job. Despite my not being able to tell you the difference between a cheap skirt steak and a hundred-dollar tenderloin.

It was even good pay. And benefits. So, hey, I was doing alright, considering having to cut and run with no planning or a nest egg to make the transition easier.

My first month working at Lombardi Premium Meats, I’d managed to get myself enough clothes to last a week without washing, some basic self-care items, towels, pillows, a coffee maker, that kind of thing.

The second month, I got to move out of a short-term rental and into an actual apartment.

Which was where Evander found me. On my second night. Waking me out of a restless sleep, heart hammering, no freaking idea what could be making a noise like that.

Having no cat food that night, he ate my last can of tuna, drank my coffee creamer, and took a nap right on my pillow.

Since then, I’d been… working on building my life back up. The microwave was a splurge. A toaster oven was a stupid luxury when I had a full-sized one. I was just too impatient to wait for it to warm up.

I didn’t usually work such long shifts.

But the store was about to be closed for a week for those renovations. That meant I would be getting paid, sure, but not getting any tips for that time. So I wanted to get as much extra as I could and offered to help with the deep cleaning.

I honestly didn’t remember the last time I had a week off from work, save for when I’d been job hunting after leaving the Bronx in the dead of night. I’d been busting my ass since I was fifteen.

What the hell was I supposed to do with my time?

Watch TV?

I had exactly one streaming service and I was pretty sure I’d watched just about everything on it that didn’t require subtitles. And I just wasn’t interested in reading and watching at the same time.

Maybe I could do some cheap sprucing up around the apartment. I wasn’t exactly a craft chick. But poverty could make you pick up all sorts of new talents when you set your mind to it.

You could learn to do anything on YouTube these days.

Or I could actually get to know more about Brooklyn, my new home.

I’d moved because it was as far from the Bronx as I could get while still having somewhat reasonable rent prices. But I hadn’t really known shit about the area. To be real, I still didn’t. I knew the route to work and home, then to the laundromat, pet store, and market.

That was about it.

I didn’t have the money to be going any other places, but I could at least learn where things were for the day when things loosened up a bit.

I was getting there. Another few months and I would even be having some of my paycheck left at the end of the month.

So long as Evander didn’t go out spreading his seed and bringing a baby mama and kittens over to mooch off of me too.

“You hear that, buddy?” I asked as I slipped the soft pizza onto one of those cheap melamine plates I’d picked up for like fifty cents on summer clearance. “No babies. Actually, can you make babies?” I asked, never having really looked at his whole… situation. Actually, I didn’t know for a fact if he was a dude or not.

I just assumed. Given all the dramatics.

Anyone who said women were the more emotional of the sexes had clearly never met a sick man, or one who’d encountered even the mildest inconvenience.

Evander shot me a bored look as he started to groom himself.

“Well, it’s been a good talk,” I said, putting his bowl in the sink, squirting some dish soap into it, then filling it up to soak before grabbing my plate, a knife, and a fork—since this was not the kind of pizza you could pick up—and making my way to the couch. “But I’m gonna re-watch that show about the alien abduction again before I crash. I’d appreciate you not waking me up at the ass-crack of dawn on my first day off.”

To that, Evander flicked his tail and shot me a look that said he didn’t give a single fuck what I wanted before going back to his grooming.

I’d just finished shoveling the last bit of pizza into my mouth when a memory flashed across my mind.

“Go home, Kick. It’s late.”

God, the way his voice had said my name in that deep, raspy little voice of his.

It was shiver-inducing.

I didn’t even think he actually knew my name.

Or, if he did, he knew my government name—Kathleen—from my employment paperwork, not the name I actually went by.

But there he was.

Just a few feet away from me.

Smelling like cigars and woodsmoke—dark, sexy, mysterious. It was the kind of scent I wanted to smell trapped in my hair, all over my clothes when I peeled them off. On my bare skin after he’d run his face…

Nope.

No.

I was not going to be having sexy little fantasies about my boss. My, admittedly, absolutely ridiculously hot boss.

He was the literal definition of ‘tall, dark, and handsome’ with his almost black hair, his dark eyes, his impressive height, and those strong arms I’d maybe eye-banged once or twice when I caught him doing something that made the muscles twitch and twist in a way that had no right to be as sexy as it was.

Fine.

It was probably more like a dozen times.

Still.

I wasn’t going to fantasize about him. Even if I was dying to know how my name would sound coming from that mouth while he was deep inside of me, his body taut, his fingers digging into my flesh as he came.

I mean, I totally fantasized. A lot. While asleep. But there was no controlling that.

I wasn’t going to play into it when I was awake.

No matter how my spine shivered at the way he’d said my name.

I had no qualms about having some good, fun, casual sex with some random hot guy who said my name like a sexy little secret only the two of you shared.

But when that hot guy was your boss?

Qualms.

There were a lot of qualms.

“Damnit,” I added to my inner monologue.

Maybe this week away from him would be just what I needed to get my mind back on straight about him.

Maybe I also needed to invest some of that last hundred bucks in tips I’d gotten into a new, strong, battery-powered boyfriend. With rechargeable batteries. Since, with the way things were going, I’d be killing batteries left and right. And I didn’t have the funds for that.

I didn’t even spend much time with Rico. But the man was still ever-present on my mind for some reason. Especially in those quiet moments in bed just before sleep. When all the other noise fell away and all that was left was that rare moment I saw my boss come out from the back office where he spent most of his time when he was around to go and grab a drink or a premade sandwich out of the case. Or when I overheard him speaking to the manager, always wondering how it would sound if he said my name.

And now, now I knew.

Sighing, I hit the play button on the remote to make the Are you still there? message disappear. Even though I’d already zoned out on the show.

This was not the kind of apartment building where you could go to sleep without something on in the background. It seemed like half of my neighbors were vampires who liked to stay up late screaming at their video games, playing music too loud, having bed-squeaking, headboard-knocking sex, or arguing with their partners. The other half did what I’d learned to do as well. Turn their TVs or white noise machines up just to be able to sleep through the noise.

Reaching back, I dragged down the blanket from the back of the couch and lowered myself down on the cushions.

It was a lumpy magenta sofa that I’d picked up at a thrift store after inspecting it with a fine-tooth comb for bed bugs, then hired two guys to help me lug it all the way back to my new apartment. It was leaps and bounds more comfortable than the mattress I’d bought online that was about the same thickness and softness of a cardboard box that Evander was no doubt occupying now that he’d finished grooming himself.

And maybe, just maybe, if I slept there for the night instead of the bed, I wouldn’t wake up tangled in my sheets, sweating through my clothes, with my heart racing and my body nearly quaking with need for the only man in the city that I really couldn’t put my hands on.

My damn boss.

CHAPTER THREE

Kick

“Listen, I’m back to work today,” I told Evander as he ate his breakfast and I sipped my coffee. I opted to skip a sad breakfast of freezer burnt off-brand waffles, deciding the free shift meal would be worth the hunger pangs leading up to it. “So you can’t be out on the fire escape shrieking at any hour of the day, okay? I will be back at eight. You can come in then.”

Evander flicked his tail in, I pretended, agreement before I went about gathering my things to head out.

By the time I was ready, Evander was already at the window, watching something on the ground below. A rat, I imagined.

“Careful out there, bud,” I said as I slid open the window. “Some of those rats are twice your size,” I added as he rushed out and down.

It felt odd to be back to a normal schedule after a week of, well, complete and utter sloth. I meant to get to know the area, get some chores done, do all the stuff I didn’t get a chance to when I was working.

I ended up eating junk in front of the TV and sleeping.

I was choosing not to beat myself up too much about it, though, since I’d been through a lot the past year. I deserved a little break.

I’m not proud to admit that anticipation was sizzling across my nerve endings as I rounded the corner of Lombardi Premium Meats. It had very little to do with being excited to get back to work, to spend time with my coworkers, or even to see the renovations. And everything to do with the man who’d been starring in my sweaty dreams. Despite some serious usage of my new vibrator that had only seemed to manage to increase my sex drive, not abate it.

The meat shop had been… kind of dated before the renovations. Lots of cement, old, mismatched display cases and snack shelves.

So walking into work was like stepping into a whole new store.

The walls and ceiling were redone in shiny white tile squares with dark grout that would be so much easier to clean than the previous painted walls. I could probably get a wall mop and make the task just take a couple of minutes.

The floors that had been cement, worn, and stained from generations of feet walking over it was replaced by faux wood tile flooring. Up near the counter, though, the wood tiles were broken up with warm cream tiles, giving it a kind of modern-vintage diamond look.

The display cases that had been those big, unsightly ones with rounded fronts under the glass were all replaced by neat straight black cases with pristine glass.

Even the meat slicers were shiny and new.

The cash register straight out of the nineties with all the writing on the buttons blurry from use was gone, replaced with a 1920’s style brass cash register, but it had a nice touchscreen set in the front to make life for all of us behind the counter easier.

Even the boards for the menu and specials were new. Gone were the blackboards the guys made me write on because they claimed I had the best penmanship. In their place were digital screens that could, I imagine, be much more easily updated.

“Whatcha think, ma?” Ricky, my manager, a walking, talking HR nightmare, but in the sweetest way possible, asked as the bell announced my presence, making him look up from where he was stocking the sausages into the case.

“Wow,” I said, shaking my head. “New uniforms?” I asked, spotting his black t-shirt with the company logo on the front.

“Yep. Better than those white chef coat things we had to wear before. They’re in a box in the back. No one’s gonna be fighting over your baby sizes,” he said, shooting me a smirk.

Ricky had probably been a real ladies’ man in his day. But now, he was a married guy with four teenagers and a wife who was constantly on his ass about losing a few pounds because his blood pressure was out of control.

He called me every kind of pet name that would have him out on his ass in any other company and asked far too many personal questions of all his subordinates.

But we all adored him.

So did the customers.

“Is everything else still the same?” I asked, waving down at my black jeans and sneakers.

“Yeah. Wear what you got. They mostly just see us from the waist up anyway.”

I didn’t expect for the back to be very different.

But instead of walking straight into the butchering room with the drain in the floor, I was diverted to a small room running alongside it. You could still see in that room, thanks to the floor-to-ceiling acrylic walls it was now enclosed in, but this allowed for there to be a tiny little employee room.

The same tile wood floor and white tile walls followed me back there. Sitting on a stainless steel prep station was a box full of t-shirts. I found my size and snatched them all up since, Ricky was right, no one else would fit in them.

Turning, I saw that we all had gotten little lockers to store our stuff in.

“Nice,” I said, seeing my name on one of the labels.

“You approve?” a voice asked, making my spine do that shiver thing again.

Even as I heard him, I smelled that cigar and woodsmoke scent I associated with him.

Did I take a deep breath? Yes, yes, I did.

But then I turned, shooting him what I hoped was a friendly smile. “It’s amazing,” I told him, meaning it. “It’s going to be much easier to clean this way,” I added, shoving my purse and my extra tees into my little square locker.

Then I reached down to pull off my current shirt.

Did Rico’s eyes widen? Or was that just wishful thinking?

I wasn’t stripping in front of my boss. No matter how much I may have wanted to do just that. I had a tank top on under my shirt. But it did show off a satisfying amount of skin. And I got to watch Rico’s gaze slip there, see his eyes go heavy-lidded for a second before he caught himself and looked away.

“These are nice t-shirts too,” I said as I slipped it on, reaching down to shove the hem into the waistband of my pants.

“Figured it made more sense to spend on quality shit that will last than have to keep re-buying the cheap ones.”

“I stole all of them in my size,” I told him.

“Got ‘em all for you,” he said, shrugging it off.

He looked like he was about to say something when the door to my side opened, bringing in that blue-haired, dainty little woman I’d seen around more than a few times.

“We need to talk,” she told Rico, making him nod and move in her direction to the hall around the butchering room to, I figured, his office.

Jealousy, hot and intense, surged through my belly and up my chest before I even knew it existed as I imagined Rico with that woman. Saff, I think I heard someone call her once.

Was that his type?

I hated the way I immediately started comparing our faces, our bodies. Saff was short. I was not that short. She had thick thighs. Mine were, you know, average. She was kind of flatter on top. I’d always kind of taken some pride in my boobs. But we both had feminine faces and dyed hair. She…

“God, stop,” I grumbled at myself as I slammed my locker shut.

If that was who he liked, that was who he liked. There was no reason to compare two attractive women based on someone else’s preferences.

So I tried to think of anything else as I helped Ricky prep the shop for opening. Then, blessedly, it was a line out of the door for hours, making it impossible to think of anything but the work.

It was coming up on closing when things finally died down, giving me time to start really scrubbing down the place.

“I’m gonna take the garbage out to the trash,” Ricky, the only other employee left, told me as he lifted a black bag out of the trash next to the register.

“Okay. I should be done by the time you’re back,” I said as I finished with the last slicer.

“Good. Fucking back is killing me. Got used to not being on my feet all day,” he said as he walked into the back.

The door didn’t close behind him, meaning he’d likely propped it open with a milk crate so I didn’t have to let him back in.

So I’d heard the slam when it happened.

But I’d just assumed, stupidly, that he’d accidentally missed the top of the dumpster and the trash whacked into the side or something.

Until the front door opened, the happy little bells jingling—a feature I was glad Rico had kept after the renovation.

“Sorry. We’re closed. We open tomorrow at ten a.m.,” I called without looking up.

That was my second stupid move.

It wasn’t until I heard footsteps coming from the back, several of them, that my stomach dropped and my head snapped up.

Then there they were.

Two guys.

Tall, solid, all in black.

Including the ski masks on their faces and the gloves on their hands.

“Shit,” I hissed, rushing backward until I remembered the other footsteps.

Turning, two more men were approaching from the back.

“Open the fucking register,” one of them demanded even as I backed myself up against it.

Not because of fear, per se. Though, I’ll admit that adrenaline was surging through my system, making my heart punch against my ribcage and my hands go sweaty. But because near the register is where Ricky kept a bat.

I’d never seen him actually use it, but he claimed that there were a few times he’d needed to ‘knock some skulls.’

The logic of a hold-up at an establishment is to just… do what they want. Open the register. Give them the money. The insurance would take care of it.

That logic didn’t account for the fear of other things that could happen to a woman alone at a shop at night with four masked men.

I didn’t care about the money.

Clearly, Rico had it if he was dropping all kinds of money on renovations and new uniforms.

I wanted to protect myself from getting gang-raped at my own freaking workplace.

“She’s going for something,” one of them said.

And just a second later, pain screamed across my scalp as someone grabbed me by the ponytail, yanking me backward, then tossing me to the side, making me collide hard enough with the counter that it knocked out my breath.

“Just a bat,” one of the others said.

But that didn’t seem to be good enough for the guy who’d grabbed me.

He reached for me again, this time around the throat, hauling me closer by it as my chest started to hurt and my face got fuzzy.

“Stupid fucking bitch. Open the goddamn register and maybe I won’t bruise that pretty face of yours.”

Okay.

Alright.

Maybe I should just open the register, give them the money, and try to run out the back door while they were distracted by grabbing the cash.

Decision made, I gave him a nod, and he released my neck, but grabbed my shoulder instead, shoving me forward so hard that I lost my footing, falling forward too quickly even to brace myself, making me clip my lip on the corner of the cash register before falling to the floor.

“Christ,” the man snarled, grabbing me by the back of my shirt and dragging me back to my feet as blood flooded my mouth from my split lip.

I ran my tongue instinctively against my teeth, testing them for looseness. Finding none, I tried to ignore the pain and drip of blood as I reached toward the register, tapping at the screen with shaky fingers, messing up my employee passcode once before getting it right, making the cash drawer slide open with a festive little ching.

“Empty this shit,” the man behind me said, grabbing me by the neck again, and pulling me away from the register. “Where’s the safe?” he snarled in my ear.

“Um, under here,” I said, pointing down, only to realize that the new refrigerated display case didn’t feature a spot for the safe. “It was there,” I said, hating the wobble in my voice.

“Show me the office,” he demanded, grabbing me by the back of my collar, keeping me close to him as he turned to his buddies. “We’re going into the office. Don’t interrupt us,” he said, the words and the tone making dread flood my belly, had bile rising up my throat. “I’ll letcha know when it’s your turn,” he added, making a sobbing sound form at the base of my throat, but I choked it back.

It was going to be okay.

I had a chance to fight one of these guys off, then rush out the back door before his buddies came to see what was going on. This was my only chance to get away.

So I sucked in a steadying breath and forced my legs to carry me down the alley, around the acrylic-enclosed room, then around into the office.

It had been slightly redone. New floor. Fresh paint. The stained ceiling tile was replaced. But, otherwise, it was the same as before.

I did spot the safe under the desk, though.

Before I could point it out, the door was kicked closed behind my attacker, his hand was going to my hip as he walked me forward toward the desk.

Before I could guess his intentions, his hand went to the center of my back, forcing me to bend over the desk.

He moved in behind me, his intentions clear, pressing against my ass, and making my stomach clench hard.

“You know, I don’t mind if you scream,” he said, his one hand holding my neck against the desk while the other went to the waistband of my jeans.

I was suddenly thankful I wore jeans, not yoga pants like usual, to work. Because despite pulling, he couldn’t make the pants budge as he yanked at them.

I spotted something out of the corner of my eye, and before I could even think it through, my hand was shooting out and closing around the pen.

My attacker got frustrated enough to release his hold of my neck, wanting his second hand to try to pull down my pants.

But before he could reach for me again, I whipped around, raising my hand to plunge the pen right into his eye like all the personal protection experts said to do.

I remember that those same experts claimed the biggest problem women faced when trying to fend off an attacker was actually doing damage to them, like there was some innate part of us that didn’t want to hurt anyone.

I was, apparently, an anomaly.

I didn’t hesitate.

My stomach didn’t twist at the idea of what I was about to do.

A lifetime of being a small girl in a big, bad city had taught me that no one would ever show me any mercy. So I damn sure wasn’t going to show any toward someone who was trying to harm me.

But before I could aim true, my attacker brought his arm up, deflecting the blow, while raising his other hand, and backhanding me across the cheek so hard that my body flew to the side then crashed down onto the ground.

I managed to brace my fall with my knees and palms, but the pain still shot up through my shoulders and hips.

It was quickly wiped away, though, when the man’s boot-clad shoe landed a kick to my lower stomach, sending me sprawling onto my back, knocking my air out once again.

But he was coming, angry that I’d tried to fight back.

He’d make me pay for it, I knew, if I didn’t get away from him.

I brought my legs up into my chest, then threw them out with everything in me.

They landed with a satisfying amount of force.

But too low.

Landing mid-thigh.

Only managing to piss him off, not actually hurt him.

Damnit.

I drew them back to kick out again, but he reached for them, grabbing each ankle in vice grips, then pressing them back into my chest as he lowered down, as he leaned over me.

“I like a little fight,” he said, those piercing blue eyes glaring at me from the holes in his ski mask.

Yanking my legs down, he pinned each with his thighs.

The pain shot through me but the fear momentarily numbed me to it as his hands went to my button and zipper.

“No!” I yelled, punching, clawing, wriggling.

“Yes,” he said as I felt his fingers on my belly after he got my zipper down.

“No!” I screamed louder, trying to move. But he was so much bigger than me.

“Hey,” another voice said as a body appeared behind my attacker. “Hey, we got to go.”

“When I’m done,” my attacker said as he yanked my pants down slightly. But with the way he had my thighs pinned, he couldn’t get them down more.

“No, now,” the other guy said, reaching out to grab my attacker’s shoulder, the move causing his sleeve to slide up.

And making my blood go cold as I saw the tattoo on his inner arm.

“There’s a silent alarm. She tripped it,” the other guy said, lying through his teeth. There was no silent alarm. At least not that I knew of. And I damn sure didn’t trip anything.

“Fucking bitch,” my attacker snarled, reaching down in his rage to land a punch to my cheek.

Tears flooded my eyes involuntarily as the pain ricocheted across my whole face.

“Ruining my fucking fun,” he added.

“Let’s go,” the other guy demanded, half dragging his buddy across the room until they were out of the office.

I lay there for a long moment, too in shock to move, even to close and lock the door, as the footsteps retreated.

The bells chimed in the front as they, I imagined, made their way out.

Still, I couldn’t seem to make myself move.

To check on Ricky.

To call the police.

To do anything.

But no more than five minutes later, I heard the bells again.

Then a familiar voice, sounding different with a hint of panic to it.

“Kick!” Rico called. “Kick!” he called again, voice getting closer.

Then, there he was.

And I somehow knew it was all going to be okay.

CHAPTER FOUR

Rico

“What’s going on?” Saff asked as we walked down the street after she dropped into the meat shop to talk to me, interrupting an interesting moment back by the lockers with Kick.

“Nothing,” I said, shrugging, as I shoved my hands into my front pockets. It went from fifty to thirty degrees in what felt like a day or two.

“You’re usually all about getting your hands dirty,” Saff said, refusing to let it go.

“Never said I wasn’t.”

“Yeah, but everything about you says you’d rather be back at the meat shop,” she said. “And since I can’t imagine you care that much about London broil, I have to conclude this has to do with that pretty chick you were eye-fucking when I came in.

“I wasn’t eye-fucking anyone,” I lied.

“Oh, please,” Saff said, rolling her eyes at me as she led me down a side street.

“This isn’t one of your smut books, kid,” I said, trying to distract her. “Not everyone wants to fuck their employees.”

“I mean, no, I can’t see you bending Ricky over your desk,” she said, shooting me a smile. “But that girl has your type written all over her.”

“I don’t have a type.”

“Right. So it’s just because the city only has short, pretty girls with great racks to offer, no other options, huh?”

“Saff, I’m not into Kick. Let it drop.”

“Kick,” Saff repeated. “I like that. Fine. What would you rather talk about then? Your cousin?”

“What about my cousin?”

“Isn’t he getting out of prison soon?” she asked.

“He is,” I said, nodding. “In a little over a week.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“You really need to work on your conversational skills, buddy,” she said as she reached for a door handle. “But right now, all I need is that muscle of yours,” she said, waving me into a building where, I assumed, that fucker who still owed her money and was now trying to hide from her, was holed up.

I walked out of there half an hour later feeling a relaxation in my shoulders that I hadn’t felt in ages. It was amazing what some good old-fashioned ass-kicking did for the nerves.

And I didn’t even have to break my knuckles open to get there.

Saff had half of her money. The guy had the fear of God in him.

All was good.

So I made my way toward my apartment, doing some work on my spare room where my cousin would be spending some time after he got out.

Nearly ten years inside.

I figured the least I could do was make sure his room was nice after that long in a cramped cell he had to share with another man.

So far, I had the walls painted, dresser and nightstands set up, and a mattress ready to be delivered. But the bed it was going on needed to be put together still.

That was what I set to working on for the evening.

Until, sometime around eight or so, my phone started ringing.

Seeing Ricky’s name on the screen, I frowned as I swiped to answer, setting the call on speaker as I tightened up the screws holding on the footboard.

“Ricky, what’s—“

“Rico, get here,” he said, sounding a mix of frantic and slow and slurred.

“What’s going on?” I asked, dropping the screwdriver, grabbing my phone, and getting to my feet.

“Guys jumped me. Think they’re inside,” he said, groaning as he, I guessed, tried to get up. “With Kick,” he added.

“Fuck,” I hissed, grabbing my gun before rushing out of my building.

I only lived a few blocks from the meat shop, so I made it there by foot, figuring I could run faster than a cab could drive.

My heartbeat was hammering in my chest. Not from the exertion. But from something I hadn’t felt in ages. Fear.

When you spent as many years as I had working in the criminal world, working your way up, and becoming the right-hand-man to a mafia don, you didn’t exactly get anxious in many situations.

But the idea of guys jumping Ricky and then possibly cornering Kick inside the shop had my stomach twisting in knots.

I saw the store in the distance, the lights still on, but no one hanging around.

I pulled out my gun as I neared the door, pulling it open, and wincing at the jingle of the bells that announced my arrival.

The cash drawer was open.

And, fuck, there was blood on the counter.

Theirs, I hoped, as I called out.

“Kick!”

I was met by nothing but silence as I rushed through the employee area, around the center room, then toward the office.

“Kick!” I called, louder, a little more frantic.

The office door was thrown open, and I saw the papers that had been on my desk when I left strewn about the floor before my gaze slid further to the side.

Then there she was.

Lying on the floor, her pants unbuttoned, her lip split, and a bruise starting to darken on her cheek.

“Hey, you’re alright,” I said, tucking my gun into my waistband, holding a hand up at her as I reached for my phone, shooting off a quick text to Renzo, telling him to get to the meat shop. “They’re gone,” I added, tucking my phone away as I made my way toward her. “You okay?” I asked.

She gave me a frantic nod as she tried to scramble up.

“Wait, stay there. Are you hurt anywhere?” I asked, moving to kneel next to her body. “Ribs? Spleen?”

“I don’t even know where my spleen is,” she admitted, trying to give me a smile, but it made the split in her lip rip a little wider.

“Spleen is here,” I said, pressing a hand to her side under her left ribs.

“No,” she said, voice airy. “He kicked me,” she admitted. “For trying to stab him with a pen,” she added.

“Good girl,” I said, reaching out to pull up her zipper and push the button through the eye, not wanting her to feel exposed when Renzo and the others came rushing into the building in the next few minutes. “Where’d you get kicked?”

“Just here,” she said, pressing her hand over her lower stomach. “It’s fine. It wasn’t that hard,” she said.

“Wanna get up?” I asked, offering her my hand.

She took it.

And, as strange as this shit sounds, I felt a current move up my hand and arm then across my chest as I pulled her to her feet.

“Ricky,” she gasped, looking up at me with wide eyes.

“He called me. He’ll be fine,” I assured her, knowing one of the other guys would find him and get him inside if he couldn’t do it himself. “I’m worried about you right now.”

“I’m… okay,” she said.

“Let’s get your lip cleaned up, yeah?” I asked, pulling out my office chair, and waiting for her to sit before moving toward the door. “I’m just gonna grab the first aid kit,” I told her, getting a tight little nod from her as I exited the room.

I nearly ran right into Renzo.

Coal, the newest member of the family, was right at his heels.

“Coal, Ricky is in the alley,” I said, looking at him. “He got jumped.”

Coal nodded, turned, then made his way out the back door.

“What’s going on?” Renzo asked.

“The place was robbed,” I told him, moving past him to grab the first aid kit off the wall in the employee side of the building.

“You’re fucking shitting me,” he said, brows pinching.

Because, yeah, who in their right fucking mind would rob a store owned by a mafia capo? Especially in this area. Where we made sure everyone knew who we were and that they shouldn’t fuck with us.

“Cash drawer is empty. Kick is beat up.”

“Fuck,” Renzo said, sighing. “She alright?”

“Seems to be. Split lip needs to be cleaned up,” I said, waving the kit at him.

To that, he nodded.

“I’ll shore up the place. Don’t wanna freak out the girl.”

I nodded before making my way back into the office to find Kick reaching back to rub her neck.

“What’s going on there?” I asked.

Before she could answer, I moved her hair out of the way to see finger-sized bruises darkening on her skin.

Fuckers.

I reached into the kit, finding an instant icepack, shaking it to activate it, then pressing it to her neck.

“Thanks,” she said, reaching up to hold it so my hands were free to find the little tube of saline and some gauze to clean up her lip. She sat like a champ, barely wincing, as I got rid of the blood.

“I’m not gonna put anything on it. Don’t want you swallowing that shit. But if it starts to look funky, you can put some ointment on it.”

“It’s not my first split lip,” she said, making my gaze shoot up to hers. “But thanks,” she added.

“How’s your stomach feeling?”

“It’s alright. It will probably be sore after some sleep, but it won’t keep me from working.”

“You’re not working tomorrow,” I said, watching as her brows furrowed.

“What? Why not?” she asked. “There were four of them,” she said, voice getting tight. “There was nothing I could do to fight them off.”

“Wasn’t expecting you to fight anyone off.”

“I know they took the money from the drawer—“

“Don’t give a fuck about the money,” I cut her off.

I didn’t.

The most the drawer could have had in it was a grand or so. Chump change, in the grand scheme of things.

What mattered was that someone thought they could come into my shop and steal from me.

“This has nothing to do with those fucks, save for you needing a few days off after that shit.”

“I can’t.”

“I’m telling ya you can.”

Her gaze lowered at that, staring at my stomach. “I can’t afford more days off.”

“You’ll get paid,” I said.

I mean, she got her pretty faced all fucked up because of me. Of course I’d fucking pay her for some time off.

“It’s not just that. There’s,” she started, sighing, “there’s tips when I work.”

“I see,” I said, zipping the kit, lowering down to a squat by her feet, plugging in the code for the safe under my desk, then reaching in to grab one stack, then another, and setting them on her thigh. “There. That should cover it,” I said, re-locking the safe.

“I… I can’t take that.”

“Yet, that’s exactly what you’re gonna do. In fact, I’m gonna take you home and make sure that money ends up there too.”

“You don’t have to walk me home.”

“Babe, I’m walking you home,” I said, shaking my head at her. “You got shit you need to get out of your locker?” I asked.

“I… yeah.”

“‘K. Get it. Then we’ll head out.”

With that, she rose, starting to set the cash on the desk before I shot her a raised brow, then keeping it in her hand as she left the room.

Renzo took the opportunity to move in as soon as she walked out, giving me a chin lift.

“How’s Ricky?”

“Probably has a concussion. Hit ‘im pretty good. Whacked his face on the pavement on the way down.”

“Shit,” I sighed. “Gonna be down two people for a few days,” I said, feeling a muscle in my jaw start to tick.

I couldn’t have people behind my counter looking like they’d gotten attacked. People would put shit together, realize someone had the balls to rob me. That would open us up to more shit like that happening moving forward.

“Make one of your soldiers pull the weight,” Renzo said, shrugging. “Probably a good idea to have a little extra security around here like that anyway. At least until we know more. Did she say anything?”

At my blank look, he snorted.

“Didn’t ask her anything, did you?” he asked, a knowing look in his eyes.

“I’m gonna take her home. I’ll grill her then. Was more worried about her face.”

“Course you were,” Renzo said as I spotted Saff and Serano making their way in the back door.

“What do you need from us?” Saff asked. Serano, as per usual, loomed silently in the doorway.

“We don’t want this shit getting out,” Renzo said. “But keep an ear for anyone bragging about robbing the place. Rico is gonna walk the girl home and get more info. While he’s gone, we’ll go over the security footage.”

“I’m gonna take Ricky home,” Coal said from behind Serano.

“Yeah, appreciate that,” I said. “Tell him he’s taking a few days off. Paid. Plus some money for damages. I’ll drop by to see him tomorrow.”

And likely get my ass chewed out by his protective wife. I’d take that lashing silently. I deserved it. My employees should have been safe at work.

“You ready?” I asked, spotting Kick standing near the back door.

She gave me a nod.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” I told Renzo. “Come on, babe,” I said, leading Kick out the front door, wanting to avoid her seeing Ricky if he looked as bad as Coal claimed.

“I’m this way,” Kick said, leading me in the direction of her apartment. “I really am okay to work,” she insisted.

“Probably right. But I want you out for a few days anyway.”

She didn’t fight me on that again. Instead, asked something I was surprised it took her so long to get to. “Why didn’t you call the police?”

“The fuck they gonna do?” I asked, watching her profile, wondering if she, somehow, didn’t know who I was. Who Renzo was. What we actually did for a living.

“Don’t you need a police report for your insurance to pay you back for the loss?”

“I’m not worried about the money. I’m worried about making sure this shit doesn’t happen again.”

“This is me,” Kick said another couple of buildings down, making me look up at the building that maybe had twenty units, max. It was on a side street known for prostitutes and meth dealers.

Was this all she could afford on her salary?

Suddenly, I felt like I needed to sit down and rebalance the books, giving everyone a fucking raise if this was the best they could do.

“I’m gonna walk you up,” I said as she looked at me.

There was no good reason to insist on it.

Save for wanting to spend a few more minutes with her in private.

Regardless of that making no damn sense. I could question her right there on the street.

Yet I followed Kick up the steps to her front door instead.

CHAPTER FIVE

Kick

The man had handed me two stacks of money like it was nothing. They were fresh from the bank. Still had the little paper band around them. The kind with the brown edges. Which meant each stack was worth five grand.

He’d given me ten grand to take a few days off.

No. I mean, he probably felt guilty about my face getting messed up. That was why he’d given me money.

I’d considered finding somewhere to stash it when I went to my locker to get my bag and sweater. But I didn’t like the idea of someone else randomly finding it and taking it.

So the stacks were currently sitting heavy at the bottom of my bag, full of possibilities that I wasn’t sure I could make happen.

Not after what I’d seen back in that office.

Before the one guy pulled the other off of me and got them out of there.

The memory had my heart constricting in my chest, painful enough for me to want to press a hand there and try to rub the sensation away.

But with Rico and his keen, gorgeous eyes right there beside me as we walked down the hall to my apartment, I fought the urge, reaching instead to fish for my keys.

“The fuck is that?” Rico asked as we got in front of my door.

And, sure enough, Evander was shrieking out on the fire escape.

I’d entertained the idea of just leaving the window cracked for him to come and go as he pleased. But, well, the area had more than its fair share of rats. I didn’t know if they were capable or willing to climb the fire escape like Evander did, but I wasn’t taking that chance.

“That, believe it or not,” is a cat,” I told Rico as I turned the knob.

“Is he fucking dying?” he asked as I flicked on the light and rushed across the apartment to push open the window.

“You’d think,” I said as Evander shot me an annoyed glance, likely because I was later than usual, before making his way up onto the counter. “But, no, he’s just an asshole.”

“An asshole you feed,” Rico said, shooting me a smirk as I rushed to grab the can of food before the cat started to knock things onto the floor.

“He’s not even mine. I mean, I don’t know if he has another home. But he comes here at night to eat and sleep. Then I let him out in the morning to go, I don’t know, hunt.”

“He got a name?” Rico asked, moving closer.

“Evander.”

“Like Holyfield?” Rico asked, giving me something that seemed rare for him, an actual smile. “‘Cause of the bite in his ear?”

“Yeah,” I said, letting out a little laugh, oddly happy to have someone to share that little joke with, since this new life of mine was the most solitary I’d ever been. Which was saying something. “Oh, I wouldn’t,” I said as Rico reached out toward the cat. “He doesn’t like being… oh,” I said, narrowing my eyes at the cat as he immediately started to purr for Rico. “You little dick,” I said.

“He doesn’t let you pet him?”

“Only if he initiates,” I said. “And only in very specific locations.”

But the darn cat looked ready to roll over and give his belly like a dog for Rico.

“I’m the one who buys you that expensive food you like, you know,” I told Evander who spared me one short glance before giving lovey-dovey eyes to Rico. “Why don’t you go and shriek on his fire escape then?” I asked as I went to get the milk for the other side of the bowl.

“I don’t have one,” Rico said. “You just move in?” he asked, eyes taking in my bare walls and my very minimal furnishings. I didn’t even have end tables. I had my mismatched lamps sitting on cardboard delivery boxes I’d taped shut after getting my goods out of them.

“A couple months ago,” I told him. “Pretty soon after I started working at the meat shop,” I told him. “Ah… want some coffee?” I asked, having nothing else to offer him.

“Sure,” he said, surprising me. I figured he would walk me to my door, then rush off. He clearly had friends or family waiting for him back at the shop. “You said you worked in the Bronx before this?” he asked, still petting Evander as I put the fresh grounds into the filter.

“Yeah. I grew up in the Bronx,” I said.

“What had you moving here?” he asked.

It was a casual question. It seemed like most people who lived in the city tended to pick their area and stay loyal to it. Not only the boroughs, but even the little micro neighborhoods. It was weird to make such a ‘big’ move for a lifelong city-dweller.

“I just wanted something new,” I said, only giving him part of the truth. “And Brooklyn was a lot more affordable than Manhattan,” I added. “Did you grow up here?”

“Yep,” he said as I got down mugs for the both of us.

“Were those your friends back at the shop?” I asked.

He gave me this long, probing look that I didn’t understand before answering. “Family,” he said.

“That’s nice.”

“You don’t have family?”

“I don’t have anyone,” I said before I could think better of the phrasing. It wasn’t his business. Even if it was the truth. I was all I had.

“Well, I have Evander,” I said, shooting small eyes at the cat. “Even if he would clearly leave me for you, given the chance.”

“That’d be a downgrade, man,” he told the cat.

It was a throwaway comment, but try telling that to my system that had been fantasizing about this guy for months now.

“Thanks,” he said when I passed him a cup of coffee.

“So, how long do you want me to stay home?” I asked.

He’d given me enough money to stay away from work for months. With nothing to do but fret about what I’d seen in the office at the meat shop.

“That bruise is getting darker by the minute,” he said. “Take off as long as it takes for it to go away.”

“They sell makeup, you know,” I said. At his blank look, I waved at my cheek, “I can cover it.”

“Let it heal. Lip too. Then come back.”

“My job will still be there?” I asked, dubious. That just wasn’t how business worked.

“Your job ain’t going anywhere. Doesn’t matter how long it takes to heal. Look,” he said when I still wasn’t convinced, “know you don’t know me. But when I give my word, I keep it. Come back in a week, three weeks, whenever. But come back all healed up,” he said, gesturing toward his face.

So maybe it was, I don’t know, an aesthetics thing.

Objectively, everyone working at the meat shop was pretty good-looking in their own ways. And, being the only woman there, maybe that standard went double for me. I had to, quite literally, put my best face forward.

“Okay,” I said, nodding. Even if the idea of having, potentially, a few weeks with nothing to do kind of filled me with dread.

Well, not nothing to do.

Because, now, it seemed like I needed to drag my ass all the way back to the Bronx to sort some shit out.

As we sipped our coffee, he asked me some questions about the robbery, but seemed to be going easy on me, not pressing me for more details.

“It’s okay,” I said when I caught him checking his phone a few moments later. “You can head back. I’m fine. Thanks for walking me home.”

Rico finished his coffee, gave an eager Evander one more scratch, then made his way to the door.

“Just show up whenever you’re better,” he said as he stepped into the hallway.

“I will,” I said.

And as I closed the door, I was kind of having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that he was so casually walking away from ten grand of his own money. After losing a grand or so out of the cash drawer as well.

The man had to be rolling in it to act like it was nothing.

He didn’t dress like a wealthy man. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him in anything more formal than dark wash jeans and a black t-shirt or button-up.

Though, yeah, that watch he had on his wrist? If that was real, it probably cost upward of fifteen or twenty grand.

If he was willing to spend that much on an accessory, then the ten grand was probably nothing to him.

Maybe I could sink some of it into my apartment. Get actual end tables. Paint the walls. Find some decor and hang it up. Make this place feel more like home.

A part of me, when I landed here, had been worried that putting down roots only to get them ripped out again was going to be depressing.

But it was starting to be just as depressing to stare at my bare apartment.

The rational part of me wanted to save as much of that money as possible to use as a ‘get out of Dodge’ plan. In case this shit went even more sideways.

My mind flashed back to being on the floor in that office. To the man looming over me, trying to pull my pants off. To the other man grabbing him, making his shirt ride up, showing me a tattoo on the inside of his forearm.

A familiar tattoo.

I guess I knew the first thing I would be doing on my break from work.

Tracking down the bastard who had that tattoo.

CHAPTER SIX

Kick

I stared up at the building, the morning chill sinking in through my long-sleeve tee and hoodie, and mentally added shopping for a new winter jacket to my list of things to do. Winter was coming on fast. Even the early morning sun bathing the city in romantic light wasn’t providing much warmth.

I sighed, seeing a woman about to head out with a stroller, knowing this would be my only chance to get in. Whether I was ready or not.

I rushed up the steps to pull open the door for her, accepting her gratitude even though she was the one technically doing me a favor.

The hallway smelled familiar. The hint of something spicy simmering in a crock pot for an easy dinner after work, cigarette smoke, and the traces of the weed from the night before.

I tamped down the anxiety as it started to grow and forced my legs to carry me over to the elevator, to go in, and to stab my finger into the button for the eighth floor.

I dug for a key I was suddenly glad I hadn’t tossed in the garbage like I’d been planning, then marched down to the door before I could lose my nerve.

I stuck the key in the lock and pushed open the door, then slammed it behind me to announce my presence.

The man who was asleep reclined in his gaming chair at the desk across the room jerked upright, his arms flying out to grab the desk as his brown eyes looked around wildly.

“Where is he?” I demanded as I walked into the apartment.

It was the kind of place you walked into and knew immediately belonged to a guy. No curtains. No framed art on the walls. No throw pillows or rugs. Nothing to make it feel homey. But there were leather recliners, a massive TV, multiple gaming consoles, and two computer set-ups over by the windows that overlooked the back alley.

Hookers like to bring their Johns back there to suck ‘em off where the cops won’t see, I’d been told once.

I hadn’t been able to help but wonder if that was why the desks were set up there. With some voyeuristic urge to witness something like that on a regular basis.

Gross.

“Where is he, Bobby?” I demanded, rushing down the hallway to push open the bathroom and bedroom doors. But finding nothing. Save for unmade beds and piles of laundry that I could smell from the hallway. Sweat, garlic, and other scents I didn’t want to think about. “Where. Is. He?” I snarled as I marched toward the desk, reaching down, grabbing the footrest, and whipping it up, making the chair flip backward.

Bobby hit the ground with a grunt, his eyes huge, like he couldn’t believe what I’d done.

“What the hell, Kick?” he asked, flopping over onto all fours, then working his way up to his feet, showing off no small amount of buttcrack in the process.

Bobby was what you tended to think of when someone told you they were a gamer. Average height, a little overweight, greasy hair that was overdue for several trims, a superhero t-shirt on, and an actual dent in his head from wearing headphones so often.

Honestly, I didn’t mind Bobby.

Sure, he had slightly incel leanings, thanks to spending almost all of his time online with other guys who’d likely never been kissed, let alone gotten laid, so they spewed nasty-ass misogynist shit to the occasional female gamer, or about the big-boobed female characters.

But if you got him away from his gaming systems, he was kind of funny, a bit of a teddy bear, honestly. Sure, he perpetually was in need of a shower. And he could use a sharp razor and some deodorant. Still, he was an alright guy.

It was just bad luck on his part that he had such a dick for a roommate.

“Where is he?”

“He’s not here,” Bobby said, rolling his shoulders that had this perpetual tilt forward from leaning inward and clutching his controls. I bought him a posture corrector once. I was pretty sure it was still in the packaging in the closet.

“I see that, Bobby. Where is he?”

Bobby moved away from me, heading toward the little kitchen, complete with cabinets hanging off their hinges and the silverware drawer that had been stuck for what had to be two years at that point. Instead of fixing it, they’d bought new, mismatched silverware that they kept in a cardboard box on the counter.

“I don’t know,” Bobby said, reaching into the cabinet to pull out a cup of ramen, then setting it under the single-serve coffee maker that I was pretty sure was only ever used for hot water, not coffee. Since Bobby was an energy drink kind of guy. In case you didn’t know that about him based on the shelves full of various cans that served as the only real decor in the living room.

“I don’t have time for this shit,” I snapped, making him turn to look at me for the first time.

He wasn’t great with eye contact. I imagine it came from having a shitty dad who was always telling him what a piece of crap he was. But when he looked at you, he was usually looking past your ear or down at your chin.

“What happened to your face?” he asked, eyes going a little sad.

“That’s why I need to find Jake.”

“Wait. No. Jake didn’t do that,” he said, shaking his head, ready to go to bat for his friend. Even if his belief in Jake’s goodness was wholly misplaced.

“Jake stood by and let it happen. Which is just as bad. So where the fuck can I find him?”

“I don’t believe that,” Bobby said, setting his spoon on the top of his noodles to keep the seal over it so the noodles would soften up.

“This isn’t religion, Bobby. You can’t choose not to believe a fact. He was there. He let this happen to me,” I told him, waving at my face.

“He must have had a good reason,” he insisted, shaking his head, refusing to believe his only real-life friend in the world could be the shithead he actually was.

“A good reason,” I scoffed. “Do you seriously think there is ever a good reason for a guy to stand by and let a woman’s face get fucked up?”

“I dunno. Maybe if he stepped in, he woulda gotten shot or something.”

“Wow. Just… wow,” I said, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.

“It’s possible.”

“Don’t go putting Jake on a pedestal, Bobby. He doesn’t deserve it. Would any of the guys in your comics or movies stand by and let a girl get beat up?” I asked, knowing that the only ‘people’ he looked up more to than Jake were the fictional ones that had pretty much raised him.

“But they have superpowers.”

“You don’t think that Jake’s size and strength was more of a superpower than what I have going on?” I asked, waving down at myself.

To his credit, he did give that some thought for a moment.

Ultimately, though, his loyalty to his friend was stronger than his own moral code.

“Jake wouldn’t have let it happen if he didn’t have a good reason.”

He did.

He fucking did.

But arguing with Bobby on this was like screaming into a void.

I didn’t need Bobby to believe me. Even if, in a small way, it did hurt that he didn’t. That he wouldn’t side with me. After all the shit he’d seen me put up with when it came to Jake.

Especially after everything I’d done for Bobby.

Including once agreeing to go in cosplay with him to one of his comic conventions just so he could show off to his friends that he could get a girl to go out with him. And that outfit had consisted of little more than a bra, a skirt that would show everyone my Playstation if I bent over, and eyelashes so big that it was hard to keep my lids open.

Oh, well.

I wasn’t really losing something if I never had it in the first place. Bobby would always side with Jake. No matter how wrong he was.

“You know what, whatever. I don’t care if you agree with me or not,” I said, and I got a small bit of satisfaction from him looking a little wounded by that. “I just need to know where he is. Fuck knows he doesn’t have a real job. So where is he right now?”

“I don’t know. Really!” he said when I advanced on him in a way that no one else in the world would probably find threatening, considering I was half his size. But he actually backed up against the counter and held out his hands. “He hasn’t been here in a while. That’s the truth,” he added with a frantic nod.

“How long is a while?” I asked, brows furrowing. Where the hell else would he go? He was paying rent to live here. And, lord knows, he never had much money to spare.

“Couple weeks, I guess.”

“A couple weeks?” I asked, spine straightening.

“Yeah.”

“What about rent? Bills?”

To that, Bobby shrugged.

“You’re covering for him?” I asked, shaking my head. That was a new low. I mean, Bobby did okay. He worked a nighttime job doing IT over the phone. Still. It was asking a lot to make him carry all the bills. “He hasn’t been back at all? To get clothes? Nothing?”

“No.”

“What happened the last time you saw him?”

“Nothing really. I was in the middle of a video call D&D game. So, I wasn’t really paying too close of attention,” he admitted. “But he came in—“

“Alone?”

“Yeah, alone. He came in. Then he went into his room. Maybe he came out with his backpack. I don’t really remember. But he said he’d see me in a bit. Then he left.”

“Have you called him? Texted?”

“No. Didn’t have a reason to.”

Save for the rent being due. But Bobby was, by nature, a pushover. Which was what his old man raised him to be. It was sad, though. Especially because guys like Jake didn’t hesitate to take advantage of that kind of character flaw in someone.

Look at what I’d put up with from him.

No.

Nope.

I wasn’t going to go back there.

I needed to focus on the present. On finding that asshole.

“Can you call him?” I asked.

“Why don’t you call him?”

“Bobby, come on. Be a pal. Just this once,” I said, sounding tired. Because I was. I was so fucking tired of thinking about Jake.

“Okay,” he said, taking his noodles over to his desk, righting his chair, sitting down, and reaching for his phone. The movement made some sort of motion-detecting neon lights flash on in a short little pattern.

“That’s kind of cool,” I admitted.

“Right? I got sent them.”

“Sent? By who?”

“The company.”

“Why would a company send them?” I asked, and watched as his neck and cheeks went red. “What?”

“I started streaming,” he said, unable to look up at me as his elbow nudged his mouse, making his screen wake up, showing the home screen of his channel.

He had almost half a million followers.

“Holy shit, Bobby,” I said, eyes going round.

“I’m making money and everything,” he said, smiling.

“That was your dream, right?” I asked.

“I mean, kind of,” he said, playing it down. Meanwhile, I’d listened to him gush on and on about his favorite streamers and how cool it was that they made a living from doing their favorite thing.

“That’s really cool, Bobby. I mean it. Good for you.”

For all his faults, I didn’t actually wish the guy bad. If anything, I wished he would get out of the apartment more and live a bit more of a normal life. If this was the life he truly wanted, though, who the hell was I to judge?

“Thanks,” he said, smiling to himself as he unlocked his phone and scrolled his contacts.

He lifted his phone to his ear, but it was just a few seconds before his brows scrunched.

“What is it?” I asked.

Bobby hung up, then switched it to speaker, and called again.

“We’re sorry. The number you are trying to reach is disconnected or no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this message in error, please check the number and try again.”

“What the fuck?” I asked aloud. “Jake has had that line… forever.”

Bobby had nothing to add to that, just shook his head.

“Was he acting weird before he left?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Was he hanging out with anyone new? Right before you saw him last.”

“Not that he brought around here. He was always texting people, though.”

“Fuck,” I hissed, whipping around to stalk across the apartment. “Fuck,” I added, more defeated.

This was supposed to be easy.

Pop in, give Jake a piece of my mind, tell him to stay the fuck away from me. And then that was it. It was over. I was done with this old life of mine. For good this time.

Now?

Now, I had to worry about that idiot and what he’d gotten himself into.

I wanted to tell myself not to care, to just walk away and not look back.

The problem with that was, despite myself, some part of me did still care. The other part was also worried that this wouldn’t be the last time. That, maybe, those guys would come back to the meat shop, that the one guy would finish what he started.

Damnit.

“Alright,” I said, walking back over to Bobby’s desk, grabbing a sticky note, and jotting down my new email address onto it. I’d be damned if I gave Bobby, and possibly by extension, Jake, access to my new phone number. “If you hear from him, email me.”

“Should I tell him you stopped by?” Bobby asked as I made my way to the door.

“If I told you not to, you wouldn’t listen to me anyway,” I said, shrugging, then making my way out into the hall.

I waited until I was in the elevator to lean against the wall and take several deep, steadying breaths.

I never wanted to get wrapped up with Jake and his bullshit again.

But I couldn’t just walk away when things looked… off.

Could I?

No.

No, of course not.

He was my brother, after all.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Rico

Our investigation went nowhere.

Sure, we had footage. But the guys had been masked and gloved. So aside from having general body types and an eye color or two, we had nothing else to go on.

The footage from the office had been what had me out of my chair, wanting to hit the streets, and beat someone to death.

Sure, Kick had been pushed around in the front of the store. Had her lip split open. But that was all, you know, part of the robbery. As fucked as that was to think.

But that fucker walked her back into the office under the guise of getting the money from the safe. Only to get her alone to try to assault her.

That shit was hard to watch.

But I wanted to make sure I didn’t miss anything.

And, really, there didn’t seem to be anything.

Until the other guy came in, grabbing the one who was attacking Kick, claiming Kick had hit a silent alarm that didn’t exist.

Sure, maybe the guy just had his conscience kick in and wanted to stop shit before they went any further. But I dunno. Something just didn’t sit right with me about it. I couldn’t put my finger on why, so I had to let it drop.

All the capos had their ears to the ground, but no one was talking about the robbery. It was rare for petty criminals like that not to run their mouths. Something always slipped eventually.

Unless they hadn’t known who they were stealing from and were now lying low in fear of retribution.

All I knew was a week and a half passed with no leads and I found myself dropping into the meat shop even when I didn’t need to be there on the off-chance that Kick would be back early.

Not that I’d given her much incentive to do that when she had ten grand in her hands. Judging by her place, that kind of money could set her up for months.

That didn’t stop me from tensing as I walked up to the shop, wondering if she would be there behind the counter, making sandwiches. Or pushing through the crowd and threatening guys who got too handsy.

“Boss,” Ricky called, making me jerk, realizing I’d been lost in thoughts of Kick walking through the door.

He wasn’t back at a hundred-percent yet either. But he claimed he was suffering at home, that his wife was only feeding him ‘rabbit food,’ and not letting him sleep for more than half an hour at a time without waking him up, despite the doctor telling her that was mostly an old wives’ tale about concussions.

So we all went with the story that he’d fallen and smacked his face. Which wasn’t even much of a lie.

“What’s up?” I asked, rolling a crick out of my neck.

“Got someone here to see you,” he said.

“A customer?” I asked, not sure I was in the mood to deal with someone’s bitching about the price of roast beef or how their ‘thinly-cut’ meat wasn’t thin enough. Or whatever the fuck someone wanted to complain about.

“No. Well, he ordered a sandwich, but no.”

“Alright,” I said, brows pinched as I followed him out.

Only to find my fucking cousin standing on the other side of the counter.

“Bastian?” I asked, taken aback. “The fuck?” I added, going around the counter to grab him and pull him in for a quick hug. “I was supposed to be picking you up.”

“Yeah, well, now you don’t gotta.”

We were only cousins, but the family resemblance was strong with us. Our old men were practically impossible to tell apart. And their genes had been strong.

We were both tall with a slim, but strong frame. Though, with his time away, Bass had clearly been doing more working out than I’ve been.

His dark hair was shaved short and the time away had etched his features a little more sharply. He had dark brown eyes with lashes chicks were always commenting on.

“You got some prison ink, huh?” I asked, pushing his head to the side to inspect the tattoo on his neck that hadn’t been there the last time I’d seen him.

“Gotta do something to kill the time,” Bass said, shrugging.

“Roast beef on rye,” one of the guys called, making Bastian raise his hand.

“That’s on the house,” I said to Ricky, who gave me a nod. “Anything he eats is on the house,” I added.

“Perks to having a cousin in high places,” Bass said, taking the food. “Place is nice.”

“Just finished some renovations. Eat in the back where we can talk.”

“Huh,” Bass said as he followed me into the back.

“What?”

“Just curious if having a fully plastic room with a drain in the floor was part of the decision-making process in buying the meat shop,” he said, shooting me a smirk.

“To be fair, the walls didn’t exist before the renovations,” I told him, getting a little grunt out of him as he took a bite of his sandwich. “How’d you get all the way here?” I asked as we got into the office.

“They give us all a Q100 to get off the island. But I had a nice chain on when I was brought in. Walked around, found a pawn shop, got the cash, and used the cash to get here.”

“Woulda been easier to wait for me to come get you.”

“Been in a cage for years. Felt good to be able to move around. Haven’t been away so long that I forgot how to get around.”

That was fair. Both having shitty home lives, we’d been kicking around Brooklyn and the rest of the boroughs since we were in elementary school.

“So what are your plans for the day? Figure after food and a change of clothes, it likely involves a woman.”

“Gotta admit, it was disappointing as fuck not to see a single one here.”

“We have one. She’s been out for a few weeks.”

“There’s more to that,” Bastian said between bites, his eyes on me.

He’d always been good at picking up on shit even when no one else could.

“About a week and a half ago, we had a robbery.”

“A robbery? Here? You’re shitting me.”

“I know. Couldn’t believe it either. And there’s been no developments about who did it.”

“We lose anyone?” he asked.

“No. Up until then, I kept this place fully legit. But, as you could see out there, my manager got jumped. And our only female employee was knocked around, then dragged back here and almost assaulted. So, she’s been on paid leave since.”

“Don’t want her messed-up face broadcasting to the neighborhood that this place can be robbed.”

“Exactly,” I agreed.

“Shit been that rocky?” he asked.

Sure, some of us had kept money on his books while he was away. And we even went to visit him. But you had to be careful as fuck with what you said to someone through letters or visits. Everything was scanned or recorded. The last thing any of us wanted was for there to be a chance that something got overheard and screwed up Bastian’s chance for release.

So he was in the dark about just about everything that had gone down the past several years, save for tame shit like people getting married, having kids, or starting new business ventures.

“No. Things have been calm. I mean, compared to how shit was when Renzo was first working to take over here. We had some issues with Renzo’s marriage, then some feud involving Cinna. More recently, we had some… negotiations with the Bratva. But in the end, they willingly moved on over to East New York. We haven’t had shit else going on. Save for the usual people not wanting to pay thing.”

“Well, you got me now. If you want to use me here, an added layer of protection, or want me out on the streets doing something, I’m there.”

“Appreciate that. But you deserve a chance to enjoy your freedom for a bit before you get back to work.”

“Oh, I’ll be enjoying all night and half of tomorrow. But after that, I’m anxious to get back out there. Earn my way.”

“I’d be happy to have you here then. But we’ll have to talk to Renzo first. Figure that can wait until tomorrow, though, if you want to go have some fun.”

“Anywhere good to get a drink around here?” Bass asked.

“Yeah, I’ll come with.”

A drink turned to several, some meeting up with others, food, and then a club that I ducked out of as soon as Bastian got himself occupied with some women. I didn’t expect to see him until sometime the next day.

I didn’t realize how close the club was to a certain someone’s place until I found myself looking down her street, wondering how fucking creepy it would be to show up at her door.

Before my rational mind could talk me out of it, though, I was walking up the steps out front. Only to find the fucking front door not only open but the lock busted.

Real safe.

I reached for my phone, shooting off a text to Coal to deal with the lock before going into the elevator to make my way up to Kick’s floor.

Inside, I heard the low chatter of something on the TV, and had a moment where I almost turned around.

But then my hand was lifting and I was knocking on her door.

“It’s Rico,” I called when the TV muted.

“Rico?” she called back, confused, as she made her way to the door, sliding the lock and the chain before opening.

Then there she was.

In a pair of barely-there sleep shorts in yellow and pink stripes and an old, worn, soft from too many washings white tee that she clearly didn’t have anything on underneath.

“I was… just checking in,” I said, forcing my gaze to stay on her face even if I was dying to let my eyes wander.

She looked better.

The bruise was practically nonexistent on her cheek and the split on her lip had become more of a light pink scar that you probably wouldn’t even notice if you didn’t know to look for it.

“Oh, that’s… nice,” she said, sounding a little distracted.

Just then, her cat came striding down the hall, flicking his tail in the air, then making a beeline for me, slamming his body against my legs and rubbing against me. He weaved through my legs, letting out little satisfied purrs as he, essentially, used me as a rubbing post.

“You traitor,” she said to the cat, narrowing her eyes at him. “Meanwhile, this is what I get for trying to pet you,” she said, showing me her arm with some fresh red scratches. “You want to come in?” she asked, taking a step back.

“Sure,” I agreed, leaning down to pick up the cat so I could move inside and close the door.

My gaze slid to the coffee table where there was a bunch of shit spread across it. Including a map. One of those ones that fold out that tourists buy.

“Oh, sorry about the mess,” Kick said, rushing forward to quickly fold it all together. But not before I saw a bunch of Xs all over the map. It was gone, though, before I could figure out what area it was a map of, let alone what the Xs might be crossing out. “I’ll just… be right back,” she said, clutching the papers to her chest before turning and rushing down the hallway.

“That was weird as fuck, right?” I asked the cat that was staring up at me.

“Okay. Ah, coffee?” she asked as she came back, seeming no less flustered, her aura all bouncy and awkward.

“Sure,” I agreed, moving toward the kitchen with her. “How you feeling?” I asked.

“I’m okay,” she said. “I was coming back this week,” she added. “I promise.”

“I don’t care about that,” I told her. “I was just in the area and figured I’d make sure you’re doing alright.”

“I wasn’t even that hurt,” she said, shaking her head at my concern.

“Didn’t just mean physically.”

“Oh, well, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

She wasn’t, though.

There were bags and dark circles under her eyes like she hadn’t been sleeping. She was jumpy. Then there was whatever that was with the maps and papers she clearly didn’t want me to see.

Something was up with her.

I just had no fucking idea what it was.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Kick

My brother was missing.

I’d spent the last week trying to come to terms with that.

I’d been mildly worried when I’d left his apartment after hearing Bobby hadn’t seen Jake in a while. And that his cell wasn’t in service anymore.

But the real panic hadn’t set in until a day or two later after I’d worked through my anger about the robbery and decided I had to at least track the asshole down.

I’d spent the next several days hitting up all the places I knew he frequented. The comic book store where he—and sometimes Bobby—would go to play shit like D&D or Magic: the Gathering.

No one had seen him.

He hadn’t been in to the local bodega he used to visit several times a day, the bar he liked, the tattoo parlor he was always getting work done at, the pizza place he frequented.

He was… nowhere.

And no one had seen him either.

The guy behind the counter at the pizzeria had actually asked me where Jake was when he saw me.

Which left me to conclude he hadn’t just left Bobby to go shack up with a woman or something in the same area.

Sure, there was a chance he’d found a woman out of the area, but that didn’t explain the phone.

Maybe, if this was any other situation, I wouldn’t have been sweating it. He was an adult. He could take care of himself. And he was careless enough to forget to pay his phone bill and get his service cut.

But I’d seen him.

He’d been one of the robbers.

The crew who broke in really got me thinking, so I spent another two days researching local armed robberies and rapes. Even home invasions.

There was a depressingly large pool of options to sift through to see if anything matched the robbery at the meat shop.

Several hundred in just one month, to be exact.

I had the file of every single one. Then I had a map to mark where the ones that most closely matched the meat shop robbery were located.

I was only about halfway through with the Bronx. I hadn’t even started on the other boroughs yet.

I’d been deep in a research hole, my anxiety tripping into overdrive at the idea of never being able to narrow anything down when Rico knocked on the door.

Honestly, I’d been so wrapped up in trying to figure out what had happened with my brother that I’d practically forgotten that I had a job waiting for me.

I had the money to stay home.

I figured if Rico or Ricky called to ask where I was, I could just claim I was having some, I don’t know, concussion issues or something.

I never expected anyone to show up to check on me.

But there he was.

Looking even better than I remembered.

He was a little more dressed up than usual in black slacks, dress shoes, and a long-sleeve black button-up with a subtle shiny black stripe.

While I stood there in shorts that were just shy of being cheeky in a ratty t-shirt with hair I honestly didn’t remember the last time I’d washed.

He smelled amazing too. Smoky and delicious.

While I probably reeked of stale coffee and that metallic anxiety sweat.

“How have things been at the shop? How’s Ricky?”

“Things are fine. Nothing going on. Just the usual. Ricky is back at work. His wife was trying to make him drink kale smoothies or some shit.”

“I don’t blame him for coming back early,” I said, wincing. “I’m sorry I haven’t been yet.”

“Babe, don’t give a fuck if you need longer. Just wanted to check in on you. That’s all it is. Don’t need to rush back. Gonna have my cousin around the shop too if I need extra hands in the meantime.”

My heart constricted, worried he was trying to replace me, sticking this cousin of his in my place, then just say Welp, you took too long to get back here.

And I needed the job.

I mean, true, I still had the stacks of cash he’d given me. I’d been too busy trying to track down my brother and figure out what he’d gotten himself into and, who with, to spend any of it, save on one of my bills that came do since I’d gotten it.

“That’s nice,” I said, hating how tight my voice sounded, my tension that I could usually tamp down, keep under wraps, coming right to the surface thanks to all the worry, lack of sleep, and too much coffee. “To have family around,” I added.

“Yeah, he’s been away for a long time. It’s good to see him again. I left him at the club a little bit ago.”

“To check on me?” I asked. “Don’t let me keep you from him,” I said as he set Evander on the counter and moved into the shoebox-sized kitchen with me.

“Nah, it was time to go. He was dancing with some girls. I woulda just been in the way of him taking them home.”

“Them?” I asked, brows raising. “Together?”

“Yeah, probably,” he said, and that sexy little smirk of his was way too appealing.

And close.

God, he was so close.

When I reached up to grab the mugs, my whole arm brushed against his shoulder. I swear the sizzle worked its way down my arm, across my chest, down my belly, and pooled in my core.

“What is that smell?” he asked, ice water over my heating-up libido.

“What?” I gasped, stomach flopping. “I, ah, probably need to shower,” I said, taking a step away from him.

To that, he let out this little rumbling laugh that rolled through me, making me shudder.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “You always smell like blueberry jam,” he said, making my muscles unclench. “What is it? Perfume?”

“Blueberry jam perfume?” I asked, shooting him a smile. “No. It’s lotion,” I told him, suddenly thankful that I didn’t veer from the scent even after years of using it. “Is… is it a good smell?” I asked.

I don’t know what I was expecting as a response, but having him lean over and sniff my neck was, yeah, not it.

He was so close that there was no way he missed the way a small gasp escaped me. Hell, he was close enough that he might be able to hear the way my heartbeat tripped into overdrive.

“Yeah,” he said, his breath warm on my skin.

And I may have, just possibly, tilted my head to the side a bit. A silent invitation… for what, exactly?

I had no idea.

But the disappointment when he slowly moved away had me swallowing back a small whimper that worked its way up my throat.

“Well, ah, I’m glad. That, you know, it’s a good smell. Don’t want to, er, repel the customers or anything,” I babbled as I poured the coffee, wondering if the flush I felt creeping up my neck and across my cheeks was obvious or not.

It was when I was handing off said cup of coffee was when my stomach decided to let out the loudest, most embarrassing grumble ever, objecting to the entire day of surviving on nothing but coffee and the antacids I’d chewed to stave off the anxious nausea I’d been feeling as I read the reports of all of the robberies.

At Rico’s raised brow, I waved it off. “I was about to throw a frozen pizza in the microwave,” I lied as I reached for my mug.

“That’s… one depressing-ass string of words,” Rico decided after a moment.

“They’re not that bad,” I said, mostly meaning it.

“Yeah, they are,” he countered. “Wanna go get a bite?” he asked.

“Of food?” I asked, then closed my eyes for a second, hating how muddled my brain felt when he was standing so close with his scent just swirling around me, making me feel practically drunk on him.

“You bite other shit?” he asked.

“No, I just… ah…”

“Hard question?” he asked.

“No. It’s just… I’m not, you know, dressed for going out.” I was pretty sure it had been two days since I showered, now that I thought about it.

“I got time,” he said, gesturing toward the hallway.

Some part of me wanted to turn him down, to push him out the door, and get back to my research.

The other part, though, knew it was probably good for me to get out, to get out of my head. It might even help me see things more clearly when I came back to it.

“Do you have enough time for me to take a quick shower?”

“You gonna put on more of that lotion?” he asked.

“I think I can manage that,” I said. “I won’t be too long. And no matter what Evander says, he can’t have more treats. He already ate half a bag tonight,” I said, looking at the cat who I swear was just shooting heart-eyes at Rico.

Who could blame him?

As I was walking away, I could swear I could hear Rico mutter We’ll see about that. And, if I wasn’t completely mistaken, I heard the crinkle of the treat bag as I ducked into the bathroom.

I tried to find the balance of being quick, but also making sure I was clean and smelling good, being hyperaware of how close we’d been in the kitchen.

“Hey, where are we going?” I asked, as I stepped into the hallway in my towel. “So I know what to wear.”

“Whatever you have on is—“ he was saying until he stepped into the hallway and saw me. His gaze slid over me, spending a little extra time on my bare legs and the area above the top of the towel where my chest had been squished together thanks to how tightly I tucked the material. “Probably not going to work,” he finished, voice sounding even thicker than usual. “Which is a shame,” he added. “Wear whatever you want,” he told me.

Typical guy. No help at all.

I rushed into my bedroom, desire still sparking through my veins as I fretted over my options before deciding on black jeans, heeled boots, and a simple white sweater that was, objectively, the nicest thing I’d ever owned, clothing-wise. It had been a lucky find at a secondhand store. I’d been picking my way through the fast fashion junk that was made of such thin material that I was sure it would fall apart after one wash and be horribly see-through even before then. Then there it was. A thick, well-made, designer sweater. For just a couple of bucks.

I bought it even though I figured I’d rarely have use for it. Now, I was glad I had it as I quickly dried my hair.

I’d already taken too much time, so I skipped makeup. But may or may not have applied another quick layer of lotion to my hands and neck.

“We might have to stop at the store to pick up some more treats on the way back,” Rico said, back to me, as he heard me coming.

“He’s got you wrapped around his finger.”

“Says the woman who feeds him more expensive shit than she feeds herself,” he said, turning. “Liked the towel better,” he said, shooting me a little lopsided grin. “But that’ll probably be more appropriate. You ready?”

“Yeah. Are you staying in?” I asked, looking over at Evander who seemed to be on his way to a full-on food coma. “I’ll take that as a yes,” I said as he leapt off of the counter to jump on the back of the couch.

With that, I grabbed my bag and followed my boss out of the apartment. “Oh, that’s good,” I said when we made our way toward the front door, where someone was fixing the lock. “That thing has been broken for a week now. The super didn’t seem too concerned.”

“Yeah, it’s good someone gives a shit,” he said, something in his tone making me watch his profile, but his face was unreadable. “Here, right here,” he said, his hand going to my lower back as his other raised to gesture toward a car idling by the curb.

“We could have walked. You didn’t have to get a ride-share.”

“I didn’t. He works for me,” Rico said, nodding at the guy who rushed out to open the back door as we approached.

“Is, uh, Lombardi Premium Meats a, you know, chain store?” I asked as he slid in the back with me. The heat was pumping out of the vents, chasing away the chill in the night air. And I was suddenly grateful not to have to walk in the cold.

“No. Just the one store.”

But he had a personal driver?

“Do you own other businesses?” I asked, looking over at him. Which was how I saw the look of confusion flash across his face for a second before it was gone.

“Yeah. Something like that,” he said, nodding.

Not having followed through on my plan to get to know this new borough I was calling home yet, I had no idea how fancy of a place the restaurant he took me to was until I had a menu in my hand. Then nearly had a heart attack over the prices of the items listed.

Even just the plain pasta with marinara was like thirty bucks. Who pays thirty bucks for something that costs, like, two bucks to make? Max.

And if you wanted to have a protein with your meal, forget about it, it was adding on twice that.

“What’s the matter?” Rico asked, making me look up to realize he was studying me.

“I just don’t know what to get,” I lied.

I tried to tell myself it wasn’t a big deal, that I had the money on me to split the check. Even if my rational mind would be bitter about having to spend that much on one meal. I mean, I could get like thirty frozen personal pizzas for that price.

“Want me to order for you?” he asked.

I hated when men ordered for women. It always seemed condescending if not outright infantilizing.

But, for some reason, I found myself agreeing.

And then I swear the guy ordered half the freaking menu as my mind tried to keep a running tally of how much that would be.

Which was probably why, when the server walked away, and Rico turned to me to start a conversation, I nearly choked on my own spit when he led with, “So what made you decide to leave the Bronx?”

CHAPTER NINE

Rico

“How… how did you know I’m from the Bronx?” she asked, her face looking suddenly ashen as her eyes went round.

“You mentioned working at a bodega there,” I reminded her, having no clue why she was having such a strange reaction to a normal question.

“Oh, right. Right,” she added with a nod. “Duh. I just… wanted something new,” she said, each word just not quite ringing true. “I lived there my whole life,” she added. That part, at least, sounded honest. “And, well, Brooklyn is a lot more affordable than, say, Manhattan. You’ve always been from here?”

“Born and raised,” I confirmed.

“Never wanted to leave?”

My entire fucking childhood.

“Never,” I said. It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t Brooklyn I had a problem with, it was my home life. Once I was old enough to really get out on my own, make my own money, build a new family, I really started to appreciate the area. And actively work to protect it. I’d never think of living anywhere else.

“What do you like so much about it?”

“I dunno. Think it has more of a sense of community than most of the other boroughs. Save for maybe Staten Island. Got a lot of culture. Great restaurants.”

“I haven’t really explored much,” she admitted. “I moved without looking into it. Spur of the moment decision, I guess. And I keep meaning to check out the local attractions than just… hanging out with my TV and frozen pizzas at home.”

“No friends? Family? Hobbies?”

“No. Not any I’m close to. And I never really had any free time to find any hobbies. Do you have hobbies?” she asked. “Not including video games,” she added.

“Haven’t played a video game since I was, dunno, fifteen or some shit,” I said. At that age, all that mattered was making money in the hopes of getting myself out of my house as soon as I was of age. “I don’t have hobbies either. Work a lot. But I have been working on fixing up my apartment for a while now.”

“Got any tips?”

“Having, you know, furniture, helps,” I said, getting a smile out of her.

“I did mean to go and get some end tables this week. But I got distracted. I’ve moved around a lot in my life. So I’ve kind of always gotten used to surviving with the bare essentials.”

“You planning on leaving sometime soon?” I asked.

“No. I mean… I hope not. I know it’s not the best neighborhood but I kind of like my apartment. Admittedly, though, eighty-percent of that might be because of Evander. He’s an asshole, but he’s mine. Sort of.”

“He’s a good cat.”

“Do you have one?”

“A cat? No.” I’d never even entertained the idea of getting a cat. A dog, maybe. There were advantages to having some sort of working line dog breed when you lived my kind of life. Another deterrent from people breaking into my place. If the locks failed. If the cameras weren’t enough to scare people off. But I also worked too much, and too odd of hours, to have a dog waiting at home to be walked, pet, fed.

“Really? You’re a natural with him.”

“Had cats when I was a kid. Half-feral hellbeasts,” I admitted, thinking of the way they’d swat me out of nowhere, completely unprovoked. How they chose not to use the litter box, but the floor right next to it, to do their business. How they would come right up on my pillow to violently throw up hairballs.

But my parents liked them because there were forever mouse, rat, or roach problems in our apartments and the cats lived to kill shit. Probably because I don’t remember my parents actually putting out food for them.

“I would argue that Evander is half-feral,” she said. “But he’s the most domesticated cat around you. Maybe his real owner is a man.”

“You should put a collar on him,” I said.

“A collar? Why?”

“See if he belongs to someone else. If you got a collar and a tag made up, maybe even put a GPS on him to see where he goes, you’d know for sure.”

The food came then and Kick dominated the conversation by asking me a shitton of questions about Brooklyn, about how different it was now than when I’d grown up. And, eventually, how I came to own a meat shop.

“Kinda fell into my lap, honestly,” I told her. I went ahead and left out the part about some mild torture that was involved in the whole process. “Seemed like a solid investment. The meat shop has been around, under different ownerships, for something like seventy years. So it’s clearly something the neighborhood wants. I figured it would be easy enough to take over. What?” I asked as she gave me a long, thoughtful look.

“It’s kind of nice to be around someone who didn’t have it all figured out from a young age. I always felt like I was alone in stumbling around, not sure what I wanted to do with my life.”

I’d been pretty sure up until that point that she didn’t know who I was, what I did. But right then, I was sure. Because anyone who knew what I did for a living knew that I’d been working at this shit for decades, been carving out a name and reputation for myself. Anyone who knew anything about the Lombardi crime family knew me.

“You got plenty of time to figure it out. But, hey, there’s nothing wrong with just… working a job. Not everyone wants or needs to have some job they’re passionate about and shit. So long as it pays the bills and doesn’t make you miserable, there’s nothing wrong with just clocking your time and going home to do the shit you care about.”

“That’s… surprisingly comforting,” Kick declared.

But a sad look replaced the relief.

Before I could ask what caused it, though—let alone why it fucking mattered to me in the first place that it did—the server came back, asking how the food was and if we wanted dessert.

“I think I’ve already eaten a weeks’ worth of food,” Kick said, sucking in a deep breath before slowly releasing it.

I waited for the check then stashed several bills in the folder as Kick reached for her wallet.

“Absolutely not,” I said, holding the check presenter out to the server as he passed.

“What about the tip?” she asked.

“Already covered,” I told her, getting to my feet, then moving to her side of the table to pull her chair out a bit.

With that, we left the restaurant, walking home discussing different places as we passed them by.

Entirely too soon, we were making our way back into her building, the air crackling around us as we stood silently in the elevator.

By the time we were at her door, she had just fished her key out of her purse.

I reached for it, nearly pinning her to the door in the process. Maybe if she hadn’t sucked in her breath, or if her blueberry scent wasn’t overwhelming my senses, or her gaze didn’t flick up to mine, heavy-lidded and filled with need, I might have moved away, might have turned around, walked away, and kept shit professional.

But she did.

And then, as I leaned inward, just wanting to get another hit of that blueberry scent, a shiver moved through her and this little mewling sound escaped her.

My nose teased up her neck as she leaned to the side, silently inviting more.

I would have kept going. I would have pressed my lips to hers, pushed her into her apartment, walked her into her bedroom, and gotten rid of the tension that was sizzling between us.

But two doors down, someone slammed their door, the unexpected sound making us pull apart, breaking the spell of the moment.

“Thanks for, you know, checking in on me,” she said, giving me a tight smile. “And for dinner.”

“Glad you’re doing better,” I said.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” she told me, reaching to open the door, then stepping inside.

“Goodnight, Kick,” I said, watching as she closed the door, then sucked in a deep breath and walked away, trying the whole walk home to tell myself it was for the best.

Even if nothing about that felt true.

CHAPTER TEN

Kick

Rico and I sort of just… didn’t happen to interact when I returned to work the next day. Or the days following that.

It wasn’t exactly, you know, unusual. There were many days when Rico either only dropped in for a few minutes, or didn’t show up at all. The place practically ran itself. There was no reason for him to micromanage it.

I wouldn’t lie and say some part of me wasn’t disappointed, though. Even if the logical part of my brain was constantly reminding me that the last thing I needed right now was a complicated fling with my boss.

Jake was still missing.

And I’d taken to hauling my ass to and from the Bronx every night after work, hanging out in dark alleys or the backs of seedy bars, trying to avoid the attention of anyone around while I attempted to spy on the local organizations I’d narrowed my search down to.

So far, I’d knocked two names off my list. One, because I overheard them boasting about breaking into houses and how it was safer than trying to hold up businesses.

The other, because I’d managed to happen upon some kind of meeting that involved the whole crew.

Jake wasn’t with them.

I had no emails from Bobby.

When I called Jake’s phone again myself, it was still deactivated.

I tried to keep the panic at bay, reminding myself that I’d seen him with my own two eyes. That he’d been alive and, seemingly, well. That he hadn’t tried to get any sort of message to me when we’d been in the meat shop to make me believe he was under duress.

I just… couldn’t shake it.

Something wasn’t right, wasn’t adding up.

Yeah, Jake was a fuck-up. Yes, he was notorious for getting himself involved in any number of shady crews. Even doing shit like hold-ups.

But… something was off about that robbery.

About how, I don’t know, he was trying to keep my identity a secret? Why would he do that? Jake had never, ever, in our entire lives, tried to protect me.

That was, you know, part of the reason I’d gone no-contact with him, after all.

“Babe, the fuck you doing?” a deep, masculine voice asked, making me jerk and let out a choked gasp as I looked over to find the source of the question.

He was standing maybe a yard away, a tall, fit guy in an expensive-looking suit with dark, slicked back hair, and chocolate-brown eyes. Everything about him oozed power and intimidation, making me worry that I’d somehow stumbled into a more important criminal kingpin’s territory without realizing it.

“Nothing,” I squeaked, my hand slipping into my pocket to close around the pocketknife I’d brought along just in case I got into any sort of trouble.

“Nothing, huh?” he asked, glancing across the street, then back at me, half-hidden in a small alley between a Chinese food restaurant and a bodega. Even with the weather cold, the stink of rotting food in the trash had been making me take small breaths to fight off the inevitable nausea.

Now, though, my heartbeat had tripped into overdrive and my breath was coming fast and shallow.

“Then why the fuck you been hiding in an alley for two nights in a row?” he asked, making my stomach twist. If he’d seen me, what were the chances that the guys I was watching had as well?

My mind went blank as he waited for an answer. And I was pretty sure I could blame his whole tall, dark, and deadly vibe for that.

“Look, if you’re planning something, I’m gonna go and advise you against it,” he said. “This is my area. And while I don’t like having to find ways to punish women for starting shit, I won’t hesitate to do it, either.”

“I’m not… planning anything,” I insisted. I wasn’t. Right?

I mean, I hadn’t really given it much thought past ‘Find Jake.’

What happened when I found him was up in the air. Beating his ass had come to mind a time or two. Though, if he was in some sort of trouble like my gut was saying, if he was with these guys against this will or something, I had no idea what to do about that. Call the police?

The man was still standing there, unconvinced, watching me with expectant eyes.

“I’m looking for my brother,” I admitted. “He’s… been missing for a while.”

To that, I didn’t actually see any softness from the man, just a nod. “Look, the addicts usually shoot up two blocks that way,” he said, nodding his chin down the block. “And the ones who are living on the street? They’re closer down by the church. They get free hot meals there. And on the cold nights coming up, the church will let ‘em sleep inside. Look for him there. Don’t be hanging out around here,” he told me before moving off.

He slowed half a block away, stopping to talk to a few other guys who were equally as well-dressed as he was. I sensed he wasn’t going to go anywhere until he knew I was gone.

I moved out of the alley, ducking my head against the wind that had been whipping all night, and made my way toward the subway steps.

My fingers had gone numb hours before and as I waited on the platform, I pressed them up under my shirt, hissing at the coldness as I rested them against my stomach to warm them up. They burned as life came back to them, and the pain helped to fight back the panic I’d felt at being confronted by some random criminal boss in the street.

I wondered if maybe I should have taken him up on the information he’d provided, gone and checked out the church and the area where the addicts used to get high.

No, drugs had never been Jake’s problem. But that didn’t mean it couldn’t have happened. Every single day, someone became addicted to a substance they’d never touched before.

And I could see how, if Jake had gotten hooked on something, he might have let everything else in his life slip away. Even gotten involved with a new crew for some quick cash to chase that high.

That niggled at me, though, on the ride back to Brooklyn.

Because if he was desperate for a fix, why wouldn’t he go to his old apartment? Take and hock his gaming systems? His old TV? Collectibles? Even hit up the too giving and often gullible Bobby for cash?

It didn’t fit.

And he had no reason to sleep in a church when he still had a room at Bobby’s apartment.

It didn’t fit.

The thing was, neither did anything else.

If he was okay, and he’d just hooked up with a new crew to make money—because heaven fucking forbid he have to go out and get an actual job for once—why would his phone be off? Why was he no-contact with Bobby, who he’d been friends with forever?

I was dead on my feet when I dragged myself down the hallway toward my apartment.

I sighed when I heard something falling to the ground inside.

I’d locked in Evander when I’d stopped in to feed him and change after work, not wanting him shrieking on the fire escape all night if I wasn’t around to let him in. Clearly, he was protesting by knocking shit off of my counters and tables.

Luckily, I didn’t exactly have much by way of possessions, so he couldn’t have done too much damage.

It wasn’t until I was already in the apartment with the door closed behind me that I realized something was off.

It was dark.

Pitch-black dark inside of my apartment.

I’d not only left the light on in the living room and the bathroom where his litter box was located, but I’d also left the TV on so he had some noise in case he started to throw a fit about being trapped inside.

Sure, there was a chance that the TV had glitched while streaming and gone back to the home screen. And, yeah, lightbulbs went out.

But not all at once.

My hand shot backward, trying to find the knob in the dark, wanting to just quietly make my way back out. To go where, I had no idea. But I wasn’t about to walk further into an apartment until I had some light. And maybe something heavy to knock someone on the head with.

My hand overshot the knob, though, knocking into it, making a sound that seemed like a thunderclap in the silent apartment.

My heartbeat pounded harder and sweat was beading up in my hairline as I grabbed the knob.

It was right then that the light flicked on.

The one that was attached to the light switch just two feet away from me.

Then there he was.

Towering over me.

With hauntingly familiar piercing blue eyes.

The last time I’d seen them, they’d been leering at me through the hole slits of a ski mask. As he tried to hold me down and remove my pants.

A little whimper escaped me before I could fight it back.

“That’s probably an appropriate reaction,” he said with an evil little smirk as he raised his hand a little higher, showing me the gun he was holding.

I hated that he was attractive.

There should be some genetic rule that your internal ugliness had to be displayed on the outside, so everyone knew who to steer clear of.

But there he was.

Tall, classically handsome with his cut-glass jaw, his rugged bone structure, his blue eyes, and his carelessly tousled brown hair.

“What do you want?” I asked, frustrated with the shakiness in my voice.

I needed to calm down.

This wasn’t the empty meat shop, flanked on either side with other businesses that had shut down for the night.

This was an apartment building filled with people. Most of them home on a weekday night. I could even hear the muffled conversation from the family on the floor above mine.

True, this was the city full of people who minded their own business. I mean, I didn’t call the cops when I heard nasty-ass, top-of-the-lungs fights from couples in the building. That said, there was a difference between a couple of drunks getting pissy and screaming at each other and someone being assaulted.

Someone would call the cops.

I wasn’t going to be raped and murdered in my own apartment, damnit.

Besides, I was right by the door.

If I could just distract him for a second, throw my purse at him or something, I could rip the door open, rush outside, and run for my life.

“Walk over to the couch,” he demanded, like he’d been reading my mind. “Move,” he snarled, pressing the muzzle of the gun against my temple.

With the gun against my skin, the chance of him accidentally—or purposely—firing were too high if I tried to run.

Swallowing back the cry that was building in my throat, I stepped forward, making my way over toward the living room.

It was only then that I realized that the sound of something being knocked over hadn’t been Evander at all. This guy had tossed my whole apartment.

Looking for what?

One glance around and anyone could see that I didn’t have anything worth stealing. The most expensive thing I owned was the TV. And even that was pretty low-end in the grand scheme of things.

The money, I realized as the gun shifted, pressing hard into the center of my forehead, a silent demand to lower down.

My stomach twisted as my ass dropped onto the couch cushion. There was nothing within reach that I could use to defend myself.

All I had was the pocketknife in my purse.

If I moved slowly when he wasn’t looking down, I could slip my hand inside, grab it, and try to hide it in my palm or under my thigh until I found an opportunity to use it.

Again, reading my mind, he reached out with his free hand, grabbing my purse. He yanked hard, making the straps pull me forward as they dug into my shoulder, which pressed the gun even more firmly against my forehead.

He made a grumbling sound, finally pulling my purse off, then simply tossing it across the room. It hit the wall with a quiet thud before falling on its side, the contents spilling out.

My phone that I could have used to call for help.

The pocketknife that was my only hope at self-defense.

His gaze followed mine. And when he looked back, that nasty smirk was tugging at his lips again.

“There goes that plan, huh?” he asked.

“What do you want?” I asked, proud of how strong my voice sounded, despite the way my insides felt like they were vibrating.

“Oh, a lot of things,” he said, his gaze moving over me. Despite wearing several layers to fend off the cold as I looked for Jake, I felt suddenly naked, like he was seeing me bared to him, like he was thinking of all the ways he wanted to use me for his own sick pleasure. “But first, we are going to start with the big one.”

“The big one?” I asked as he took a few steps away, the gun no longer raised, but still heavy in his hand.

“I have a job for you," he said, then waited, wanting me to ask. He was enjoying this. Getting off on my powerlessness. Knowing that my only choice here was to placate him.

“I already have a job,” I said, lifting my chin a bit, not wanting him to see my fear. Even if it had turned my blood to ice in my veins, chilling me from the inside out.

“Yes, that’s what makes my job for you work,” he said.

“Are you going to get to the point sometime soon? Or should I put on a pot of coffee while I wait?” I asked, fear making me angry.

To that, he snorted. “I heard you were a piece of work,” he said, making my spine straighten.

Who had he heard that from?

Jake?

Was this asshole Jake’s boss?

If so, why would Jake save me from him only to sic him on me a few weeks later?

He was waiting for me to ask, but when I just stared up at him, trying to make my expression as bored as I could possibly muster, his jaw got tight, irritated that I wasn’t whimpering, crying, begging.

I’d be damned if he got that out of me.

“You are going to get me some money. Actually, you’re going to get me a lot of money.”

“I don’t have money. Have you looked around?” I asked, waving at my apartment as a whole.

“No, you don’t have shit,” he agreed. “But you have access to money. A fuckton of money.”

“No, I—“ I started, but then it hit me what he was saying.

He wanted me to steal from the meat shop.

“There it is. Thought you were supposed to be smart,” he added, again making me wonder who the hell he was getting his information from.

Compared to Jake, yes, I was, objectively, smart. But Jake never would have called me smart. He never wanted to give anyone their props, thinking it would take away from his own positive attributes. As few and far between as they were.

So who was this guy’s source?

It’s not like I had a lot of close friends. Or, you know, any friends. And Jake was the only family I had.

“You are going to take money from your job.”

“Why?” I asked, squinting at him. “You already robbed the place. There’s not that much money there,” I said, thinking of the cash drawer.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said. “Your boss has money there. A lot of fucking money there. And you’re gonna get it for me.”

“I don’t have access to the safe,” I said. “I wouldn’t even know how to try to get the code for it.”

I didn’t know a lot about safes. Every job I’d ever worked had them, of course. You always needed access to more cash and coins to fill the register when it got too full of large bills, making it impossible to make change.

But on the off-chance that I was working alone at night when I ran out of the proper change, I would need to call my boss to come in and go into the safe for me. I’d never had direct contact with one before.

I knew where Rico’s was, of course, now that he’d moved it from under the display case and into his office. It was tucked under the desk.

But it was kind of… small.

I mean, those things had thick walls to make them fire safe. So the space inside couldn’t fit more than maybe, I don’t know, fifty grand?

I guess, though, fifty grand was a lot of money.

It would be life-changing money to me for sure.

Who was to say it wasn’t the same for this guy.

He’d been willing to rob a store just for the couple grand he got out of the cash drawer, after all.

“There’s not that much money in there, I don’t think,” I said, feeling like I needed to forewarn him, in case he was thinking this would be some half a million dollar score.

“I’m not talking about the safe,” he said. “This is a long-term plan. Little bits over time.”

“I can’t do it,” I said, stomach twisting at the idea of betraying Rico like that.

No, it wasn’t like he was my best friend or boyfriend or anything like that. But the man had been nothing but good to me. And, well, there’d been that whole thing after he’d taken me to dinner…

“You don’t have a choice.”

“I’m not doing it,” I said, voice fierce, ready to jump up off of the couch and rush him.

“Yes,” another voice said, making my stomach drop out, “you are.”

I was afraid to turn around, to confirm with my eyes what I knew with my ears.

Because I knew that voice.

I knew who it belonged to.

But this couldn’t be happening.

He was dead.

I’d killed him.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Kick

I’d met Kyle the first week I was working an overnight shift at a little coffee shop. I was young and nervous about being all alone, save for the guy in the back who was prepping the pastries for the next day. But he would be no help in an emergency since he was both stoned out of his mind and listening to music through his headphones so loudly that I could hear the death metal screams from several feet away.

But, damn it, I was a strong, independent woman. I could take care of myself.

And the counter was probably too high for anyone to actually, you know, jump over.

Still, it was nerve-racking.

So I busied myself by wiping down every single surface behind the counter and restocking the beans, filters, and hot chocolate machine to help the time pass and keep my mind from going off in too many directions.

There was no chime on the door. I had no idea I wasn’t alone as I leaned over the massive notebook that we kept behind the counter to do a pastry inventory, so the manager could decide the batch bake list for the next day.

I turned as I noted down that there were ten French crullers left.

Then there a man appeared.

A shriek escaped me as my whole body jumped, making the notebook fall from my hands, landing near my feet with a loud smacking sound.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he’d said, head tipped to the side as a little smile tugged at his lips.

Looking back over the years, I could see how—even in that first interaction—he enjoyed my discomfort.

At the time, though, all I seemed to register was how handsome he was.

He was six-two and fit in a way that wasn’t obnoxious or overly intimidating. His brown hair was a little long, curling toward the collar of his shirt. And he had these captivating green eyes that I found it hard to look away from.

“You dropped your notebook,” he’d reminded me, that smile curving a little higher. But not touching his eyes. I would learn, eventually, that no smile ever did.

“Oh, right,” I’d said, shaking my head at myself as I ducked down to grab it and the pen that had wedged itself under the counter.

He didn’t apologize.

I never realized that in the moment either.

I was too busy feeling embarrassed that I’d overreacted to a customer.

“In my defense, no one has been in here in hours,” I’d told him as I set the notebook back under the counter. “What can I get you?”

“How about a smile?”

Again, I must reiterate how young I was. Fourteen years his junior, in fact. With an extremely limited dating history. Back before there were a lot of conversations about how weird it was when men would tell women to smile when they would never, ever, demand that of another man.

Smile for me might as well mean perform for me.

But I smiled for him.

“That’s better. You’re much prettier when you smile,” he’d said. I’d taken that as a compliment. It would be years before I even heard the term ‘negging’ let alone realized Kyle was guilty of exactly that. “I’ll have a large coffee with an extra shot.”

“No cream? Sugar? Flavor?” I’d asked, plugging my code into the register to wake it up then tapping in his order while I waited for him to answer. But he refused to until I glanced back up at him.

“No,” he’d said with a tone that suggested anyone who did want those things was an idiot.

“Okay. That’ll be four-ninety-nine,” I’d said, waiting for him to produce a ten, then handing it to me.

“Keep the change,” he’d said with an air of importance like he’d given me a hundred for a tip.

But, well, it was generous compared to what I’d gotten so far, so I’d been excited as I reached to dump the coffee.

“I’m going to make you a fresh pot,” I’d told him. “It’s been sitting for a bit.”

“Sounds good,” he’d said, and I was hyperaware of his eyes on me as I went through the motions of making a new pot. Then, waiting for it to drip, I took his cup to the latte machine to make his extra shot. “How long have you been working here?”

“Well, I trained for two weeks. But this is only the fourth night I’ve been working by myself.” He only nodded at that. I’d been desperate to engage him further, so I looked over at him and asked, “Do you come here often?”

“Every night,” he’d said. Instead of feeling suspicion, since I’d been there every night for four of them and this was the first I’d seen him, I’d only felt excitement at the idea of getting to see him again. Maybe I could even have his drink waiting for him. People liked that. It made them feel seen and important.

He did come in every night after that. And I did learn his schedule, having fresh coffee ready, then just throwing it together when I saw him walking up.

“How old are you?” he’d asked sometime that first month after weeks of having long conversations where, mostly, he talked or picked apart my answers to his questions. I’d thought it meant he was interested, not that he was criticizing me.

“Nineteen,” I’d told him, shoulders pulling back, feeling that nineteen was so mature.

“That explains it,” he’d said, making my shoulders immediately fold forward as my mind raced, trying to figure out what I’d said wrong to make him think that.

I would see in the coming weeks, months, and, yes, years, that I never actually did anything wrong, that he was always looking for subtle ways to knock me down a peg, to keep me from feeling confident or comfortable in my own skin.

What’s this? he’d ask when I was getting changed in front of him, grabbing hold of the fat covering my hip, or my inner thigh, my lower tummy, making me immediately aware of his disapproval without him actually having to say anything else about it. Then, if I knuckled down, starved myself, exercised myself to exhaustion, he would nod at my new body and declare That’s more like it.

Over time, the praise got less and less frequent. Which, as sick as this was, only made me strive harder and harder for it.

He liked sports and made it clear that my ignorance was a turn-off, so I’d go online and study for hours at night when he was asleep, trying to learn everything I possibly could about how the game worked.

I learned quickly that while he did want me to know some basics, it pissed him off to no end when I eventually became studied enough on a topic to correct him.

What, you read a couple articles and think you know more than me? He’d rage as he jumped off the couch, going to grab his wallet and keys as I rushed after him, begging to know where he was going. To spend time with people who don’t act like little know-it-alls.

I wish I could say that I recognized it as control. Especially as he started taking my paycheck, only giving me a small allowance back to buy my own personal items with. Or when he would sit me down for a ‘serious discussion’ when he thought I was becoming too friendly with coworkers, telling me that they didn’t have my best interest at heart.

When he sensed I was finding too much joy in a job, suddenly, we would have to move apartments, and I would have to get a new one.

It took a couple of years to get me trained enough, submissive enough, that he knew I wouldn’t run when he escalated from emotional and mental manipulation to actual physical abuse.

It was a backhand across the face one night, the pain a shock, but not nearly as bad as the emotional wound that opened up and bled inwardly.

But it was all my fault. I just wouldn’t stop nagging him, wouldn’t shut the hell up. He just wanted some fucking peace.

And it was never, ever going to happen again. He’d promised over and over as he kissed my swollen eyelids in bed after he’d listened to me cry for hours.

Inevitably, though, it did.

Then it escalated.

Got more frequent.

But at that point, even if I thought to run—and I didn’t—I had nothing to run with. He kept all of my money, making sure there was never enough left over to create an escape plan with. Hell, some months I would have to ask him, cheeks blazing, for a couple extra dollars to buy myself tampons.

Then, though, one night, he didn’t come home.

I didn’t learn until the morning when I saw his face pop up on the TV screen at work, that he’d been arrested for petty theft.

He didn’t call me asking to be bailed out, likely knowing I didn’t have the money. Or access to his money, wherever it was.

So, for the first time in years, I was all alone. My money was mine again. I didn’t have someone constantly beating me down, mentally and physically.

I gained some perspective.

My confidence started to grow.

I saved up a few paychecks.

Then I packed my shit and I got the hell out of there.

I thought that was it.

I was free.

I would never see Kyle again.

Until one day, about eight months later, when he was suddenly outside my door when I was about to head out on a date. My first date since I’d met Kyle years before. With this sweet, Golden Retriever of a guy who’d stuttered when he’d asked me out.

I didn’t slam the door in his face.

I didn’t demand he leave me the fuck alone.

It was like the previous eight months of personal growth never happened. And, suddenly, I was right there under his thumb again, giving him my paycheck, enduring his abuse that escalated now because How dare I leave him when he needed me most?

But after having a taste of freedom, there was a spark in me that hadn’t been there before. One Kyle tried like hell to blow out, but even when it flickered and nearly went dark, I kept my hands cupped around it, breathed new life into it, kept it burning.

That was when Kyle stopped being subtle with his insults and control and got more overt with it. He was no longer keeping it behind closed doors and would yell at me, belittle me, and hit me even when we weren’t in our apartment, not caring who saw what he was doing to me.

But I was also working more than ever, spending more time away from Kyle than with him. Long, overnight shifts in a bodega in a shifty area full of drug dealers and pimps. None of whom scared me as much as my own boyfriend.

That had been a sobering realization.

The man I shared a life with, a bed with, was scarier than the men who came into my work with visible guns shoved into the waistbands of their pants.

In fact, it was one of those men who came in after a particularly bad fight with Kyle had left me with a fat lip and a steadily-darkening bruise across my cheek.

He brought up his usual coffee and energy drink, passed me the cash, then reached for the pen on the countertop.

“Carotid,” he said, running the nub of the pen against his neck. “Carotid,” he added, moving to the same spot on the other side of his neck. Then, pointing the pen to his thigh. “Femoral.” At my scrunched brow look, he put the pen in his fist, and slammed the tip down onto the counter. “Five-percent survival rate. Just something to keep in mind.”

And with that, he walked out.

I’d never considered violence before.

I was a small woman.

Kyle was a big guy.

Even trying to pull away had never been successful for me. It seemed absurd to think I could overpower him and do any damage.

Let alone kill him.

I wasn’t a killer.

That remained true.

Even through two more times of getting fed up and leaving him, trying to start over, only to have him track me down again, pull me back again.

The last time was the most hurtful time.

Because for the first time ever, I’d been desperate enough to go to my brother for help.

I’d shown up at his door bleeding from my nose with a black eye steadily forming, begging him to let me crash for a couple of weeks, just until I had enough of a savings to start over again.

Because Kyle had found my secret stash of money in the bottom of a bulk tampon box under the bathroom sink. The money I’d been saving to get away. For real this time. For good.

I’d barely been in the door before he had me by the hair, pulling me through the apartment to the bathroom where he had the cash on the sink counter.

There’d been a lot of screaming and pain. And the whole time, all I could think about was never letting this happen again.

Then, as soon as I could, I ran.

And things seemed okay then for a bit.

I got a new job under the table so Kyle couldn’t find me. I slept on the couch in Jake and Bobby’s living room. I made plans. I got stronger, more confident; I stopped taking shit from men, never wanting anyone to think they could take advantage of me again, to hurt me again.

It was the first time in my adult life where I had hope, where I felt in control of things.

Until, one night, I was taking trash out to the dumpster at my job.

Then there he was.

“Your brother said I could find you here,” he said, standing between me and the door to my job. Not that there was any real safety inside. I was working alone. The store was empty.

Jake?

Jake had sent him?

Betrayed me?

Even after he’d seen what Kyle had done to me?

The betrayal cut, perhaps more than it should have, given that Jake had never protected me a day in his life. Not when the neighborhood guys would catcall or grope me when we were growing up. Not when our parents would blame me for something he’d done.

Never.

Still, it hurt.

And, in that moment, I decided I didn’t have a brother anymore.

“You’re coming home with me,” Kyle had said, advancing toward me, making the already minuscule alley feel all the more claustrophobic.

“No, I’m not,” I’d said, taking a step back until the damn dumpster prevented further retreat.

“Yes, you are. You belong at home with me. Where I can take care of you.”

“Take care of me?” I’d scoffed, a strange, hysterical kind of laugh escaping me. “All you have done is hurt me.”

The argument escalated from there as he continued to approach me, to close me in, to make it impossible to escape when he finally started to strike.

It was when he pinned me against the dumpster, the metal crushing against my shoulders and hips, that I remembered the pocketknife I had in my back pocket.

I don’t know if I was consciously thinking of that random guy at my old job and his pen-to-artery instructions when my hand slipped into my pocket to close around the metal that was warmed from being against my skin.

All that seemed to cross my mind was that I needed this to stop. That I never wanted him to put his hands on me again.

I flicked the knife open as his hand closed around my throat, starting to cut off my air, making my face and brain feel fuzzy.

“You belong to me,” he’d snarled in my face.

Not anymore.

Never again.

And I just… raised my arm and started stabbing.

Once, twice, three times.

More? I don’t know. It was all an adrenaline-filled rush, making everything sharper—the stink of the trash behind me, the sweat from the heat soaking my shirt, the bright, red color of his blood as it started to flow out of his body—but also strangely far away. Like it was something I was watching, not something I was doing.

Kyle’s hands pressed to his neck, the blood flowing between his fingers, as he fell back, then slid down the brick wall.

I didn’t really think then, I just… walked away.

I walked back inside.

Like nothing had happened.

I went into the bathroom, washing my hands and arms.

Then I… went back to work, sure that any moment, the cops would come rushing in with guns drawn, ready to take me in for murder.

But the cops never came.

Numbly, I finished my shift. Then, when my relief came in the morning, I gathered my things and I just… left.

I went to Jake and Bobby’s, grabbing as much as I could as quietly as I could, so I didn’t wake anyone up.

Then I walked away.

Out of the apartment.

Out of the Bronx.

I stopped at a seedy hotel where I showered then just sat on the bed, waiting for the police to find me.

They didn’t that day.

Or the day after.

Or the day after that.

Despite having used my credit card for the room.

So I started to think that maybe, just maybe, I’d somehow… gotten away with it. That the cops hadn’t found any evidence pointing at me.

There were no cameras in that alley, after all. And my fellow employees and I long-suspected that the ancient-looking cameras inside the store hadn’t been working in at least a decade. On top of that, my work uniform was all black, so no one would see the blood on me.

As if that wasn’t enough good luck, I’d been working off of the books so my boss could avoid having to pay me the shift differential. That was why I’d taken it in the first place. Because there wasn’t a paper trail leading back to me for Kyle to find and track me down.

No one, it seemed, was looking for me.

Kyle’s murder, I began to hope, would just go down as another cold case no one even cared about.

I was free.

I could start over.

And he would never hurt me again.

Except, of course, he wasn’t dead now, was he?

CHAPTER TWELVE

Rico

“What’s all the moping about?” Bastian asked two minutes after he came into the apartment at half-past three in the morning.

Clear across the room, I could smell perfume clinging to him. And there was a tan swipe on the shoulder of his dark tee that I imagined was a woman’s makeup.

He hadn’t known a lonely night since he came home from prison. Hell, when he was working at the shop, he would sometimes take a lunch break and come back with a swagger in his step.

“I’m a grown-ass man; I don’t mope.”

“Yet, here you are, sitting in the dark with a drink, staring out the window… moping,” Bass said as he walked over to the bar cart to pour himself a drink, then move to sit down across from me in the living room. “Work shit?” he asked.

To that, I snorted.

“Work’s fine.”

“Except not figuring out who robbed you.”

“Yeah, there’s that. But since there’s been nothing else going on since, I figure it’s an isolated incident.”

“It’s not work. Then it’s gotta be a woman. It’s gotta be Kick.”

“Why would you say that?”

“‘Cause she’s been looking for you each time the door opens or she sees someone out of the corner of her eye coming out of the back room.”

“Yeah?” I asked.

“See that shit?” Bass asked, smirking at me. “There goes all the moping. And, yeah. Figured something went down with you two.”

“You could say that.”

“And you’re sitting here instead of getting buried between her legs because…”

That was a good question.

I’d been asking myself the same thing over and over since walking her back to her door.

“She works for me.”

“So what?”

“So it’s complicated.”

“Only if you make it complicated. You’re both adults. Think you can manage to figure it out.”

He made it sound so simple.

Hell, maybe it was.

“You have your meeting with Renzo?” I asked.

“Yep.”

“And?”

“Went like I expected. My past history isn’t enough. I gotta prove I can still be an earner now. If I can manage that, I can get Made and get my own crew.”

I knew it wasn’t what Bastian wanted. He’d gone to prison for the family, lost years of his life for us. Now, all of us had moved up without him. And he was still in the same place. Trying to prove his worth.

I felt for him.

But I also understood Renzo’s point as well.

The world was a different place than it was when Bass had gone away. Crews had imploded and disappeared or came out of nowhere and taken over. Local businesses were different. So were alliances and enemies.

He needed time to find his footing again, rebuild relationships, get a reputation for himself.

While I cared that Bastian was disappointed, what was good for the family as a whole was more important.

“If you don’t mind, I might take up some of the other guys on small jobs,” Bass said. “Saff said she can always use a set of hands. And Cinna and Dav said they have a big job coming up soon. Figure any money I can make means more of a kick-up to the boss. It’ll all help get me closer to having my own crew.”

“I have no problem with that,” I said, nodding, remembering how thin I used to stretch myself when I was working to prove my worth as well. I barely slept more than three or four hours a night for years. “And you know if I have any jobs I need a hand on, I will tap you first.”

“Appreciate it,” he said, finishing his drink, then getting to his feet. “Well, I’m gonna go wash this awful perfume off of me. Maybe you should think about getting some of that blueberry all over you in the office at work tomorrow.”

It seemed so easy.

Maybe it was.

I suddenly had the urge to show up bright and early to work in the morning.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Kick

How was he alive?

My throat felt tight, like someone was closing their hand around it and squeezing tighter with each passing second.

I’d stabbed him.

Repeatedly.

He’d been slumped over, barely moving, when I’d walked away.

There was no way he’d survived that.

Except, of course, the fact that he had.

Because he was leering at me from the doorway of the hall.

He looked different. He’d cut his hair, had grown a beard. But through the patchy hair on his neck, I could clearly see the proof of my attempted murder, my last-ditch attempt to finally get myself free of him.

That coldness I was so familiar with in his eyes, though? That was still there. Amplified.

“Surprise, darling,” he said, lips lifting up as he registered my disbelief. “Guess you never thought you’d see me again,” he added as he moved out into the kitchen, heading toward me.

Evander was perched on the top of the counter. As Kyle moved past, he let out a hiss.

So he didn’t love all men.

He just liked Rico.

Somehow, thinking of him while facing down Kyle was like a knife sunk in my heart.

“Well, I certainly hoped I wouldn’t,” I said, refusing to sit there trembling and on the verge of tears.

“Bitch,” his buddy mumbled under his breath.

“You made that clear when you plunged a knife into my throat,” Kyle said, venom dripping from his tongue. “But only you would be so inept to miss the carotid artery four separate times.”

My stomach clenched at the insult, some part of me still susceptible to his disapproval. But that part was much smaller than it used to be. And all the months free of him made the anger fill the places that used to be teeming with hurt.

“I won’t miss a second time. Want a rematch?” I asked, jaw trembling with my rage.

“You’ll get yours,” he said, nodding slowly. “But I have to get mine first. Show her,” he demanded, glancing at his accomplice.

My stomach knotted, not sure what this was about, but knowing Kyle well enough to know he had something big up his sleeve. Because as much as he was trying to play it cool, he was practically bouncing with his excitement.

The other guy reached in his pocket for his phone. I expected a picture or something, but he made a call then waited for someone to answer as my pulse whooshed so hard in my ears that I could barely hear past it.

“Show her,” he demanded to whoever he was speaking to before turning the phone to me, showing me the screen of the video call.

For a second, it was just shaky footage of a cement wall and stairs. A basement, it seemed.

But then there was an image that had my stomach bottoming out.

Because there was Jake.

Chained to a metal beam, blood caked on his shirt, on his skin, his face so swollen that I could barely recognize him.

Everything clicked together at once, then, the parts that I couldn’t piece together when I’d been overcome with shock, fear, and anger.

Jake with the other robbers.

Jake saving me at the last second.

Jake’s disappearance.

The guy he’d robbed the store with in my apartment.

That guy’s connection with Kyle.

“Say hi to your sister,” a deep voice said from the phone, making Jake’s head snap up, his eyes looking suddenly brighter as he stared at the phone.

“Just do what they want, Kick,” he said, voice hoarse. “Please. Just do what he wants.”

Kyle snatched the phone, ending the call.

“Now are you paying attention?” he asked, staring down at me.

“I can’t do this,” I insisted, swallowing back the urge to plead for him to release my brother. That was what he wanted. He thrived on beating me down. I couldn’t give him that satisfaction ever again.

“Yet, you will. This is a start. But there’s plenty more in that building.”

“You’re… even dumber than you used to be,” I scoffed, watching as his face hardened, as he took a step toward me, hand cocking back. “Go ahead,” I invited. “It won’t look suspicious or anything that I got my face messed up twice in a month.”

It killed him to pull back, his body practically vibrating with tension as his hand curled into a fist.

“The money is there. And you will get it for me. Or I will hold you down and force you to watch as my men torture, then kill, your brother.”

He would do that.

There wasn’t a doubt in my mind about it.

But I did doubt that there was enough money in the store to placate him. It was a meat shop, for God’s sake. And they balanced the books. They would see the money missing eventually. It was only a matter of time before they figured out it was me.

What choice did I have, though, but to try? To placate him. He had my brother.

“Fine,” I said, staring up at him, lifting my chin defiantly.

“Really lucky that you fucks decided to rob that store,” Kyle said, whacking his friend on the back as he smiled. “What?” he snarled at me, his smile falling as a strange, high-pitched laugh escaped me.

“I gave you too much credit,” I said, close to hysterical from the shock and stress.

“What?”

“I thought you were some criminal mastermind,” I chuckled, shaking my head at the movie-level villain I’d painted in my mind of him.

Someone calm and collected enough to pull off some patient, multi-step plan to get back at me.

That wasn’t it at all.

This had fallen into his lap.

He’d never tracked me down at all.

“I’m curious,” I said, pulling myself together as the two men watched me like I was deranged.

“About what?”

“How you found out it was me. It was you, wasn’t it?” I asked, looking at the other guy. “When Jake saved me, lied to you about the alarms, and the cops never came. You were the one to put it all together.”

“I put it together,” Kyle claimed, but I saw the other guy’s eyes go hard, clearly pissed to have his credit taken away. “See, once I recovered, I went looking for you. We needed to have a little chat.”

“Chat,” I scoffed. “That’s what we’re calling domestic abuse now, huh?”

“And, of course, I went to your brother. He was so helpful before,” he said, taking a fist to my heart at that memory.

The brother I was going to steal from my job for had sold me out to my abusive ex for… nothing.

“Was interesting to hear you’d cut him off too. A cold little bitch you turned out to be,” Kyle said, tssking at me. “But me and Jake, we started to talk, got close,” he said as my heart shrank in my chest. “He told me about this crew he was working with,” he said, glancing over at his accomplice. “We joined forces. When the heat got too hot in the Bronx, we set our sights on Brooklyn.”

“It was a complete accident that you robbed my job,” I concluded.

“I like to think it was fate,” Kyle said. “And then there was that little incident in the office.”

“By ‘incident’ you mean your friend here trying to rape me?” I asked, proud at how little emotion slipped into my voice.

“There’s still time for that,” Kyle said. “Maybe we will all get a turn if you don’t do what you’re told.”

“Where were you?” I asked instead of rising to the bait. “Too afraid to get in there yourself?”

“I was in the alley,” he said, making me think of Ricky and his busted-up face.

“Of course you were,” I said.

“You stupid—“ Kyle started, taking a threatening step toward me, only to have his friend press an arm against his chest.

“If Rico starts asking questions about her busted-up face, this could all fall apart,” he reminded Kyle. “You can do whatever you want to her once it’s over.”

Kyle made a rumbling sound at the back of his throat, but he stepped back again.

“You’re going back to work,” he told me. “And you are going to start skimming off the register every night, then bring it to me once a week.”

“For how long? Jake can’t keep going on like that,” I said, thinking of the blood loss, how pale he looked.

“Well, if you show up with the cash, we’ll feed him. Might even toss some electrolytes at him every now and again.”

“To what end?” I asked. “I won’t get away with it forever. Rico will notice the money missing eventually.”

“Well then, maybe you’ll get a new job. And start the process all over again,” Kyle said.

“You’re just going to keep Jake a prisoner forever?” I asked.

“Why not? I kept you for years,” Kyle said, making my stomach twist at the unfortunate truth of that.

“I wasn’t chained in a basement,” I reminded him.

“Don’t think I didn’t consider it,” Kyle said. “But then where would the money come from?”

“You’re not thinking this through, Kyle,” I told him.

“Thought it through a lot, actually.”

“Then you’re an idiot. I’ll get caught eventually. Then what? You’ll actually have to earn your own money for a change? You’re being short-sighted.”

A muscle ticked in Kyle’s jaw. Because he knew I was right. He’d always been good on acting on his impulses. And terrible at multiple-step thinking.

“If the boss gets suspicious, you clear the safe and get out of there,” his friend said.

I decided not to bring up the fact that I had no experience getting into safes.

“And then?”

“None of your fucking business. We have it all figured out,” Kyle said. We all knew he was lying. But now I’d given them the hole in their plan. They would have nothing but time to fill it in. “All you need to worry about is getting us our money. You miss a payment, your brother loses a finger or two. See how you handle that on your conscience.”

With that, he nodded at his friend, who made his way to the door.

But Kyle didn’t immediately follow.

Instead, he reached down, grabbing me by my upper arms hard enough to make me hiss in pain, something that made joy brighten his eyes as he pulled me up and off the couch and near his face.

“You fuck me over and you and your brother will pay. Don’t fucking try me again.”

With that, he dropped me down onto the couch and strode out of my apartment.

Alone, a little whimper escaped me as I reached across to rub each of my arms, knowing there would be fingerprints on my skin by morning.

I didn’t bother to get up and lock the door. What good would that do? They’d already gotten past the locks once.

I heard the thump as Evander jumped down from the counter, then felt the weight of him as he jumped up onto my lap, settling there.

That, more than anything, seemed to break the dam inside, making my eyes flood with tears.

“What am I going to do?” I asked him through sniffles, my hand landing on his back.

I mean, there was only one thing to do. What Kyle wanted. Steal the money. Keep stealing the money. Until it got too risky. Then take all of the money and run.

To him.

Because as long as he had my brother, he had control over me and he knew it.

I could, of course, go to the police. But what if Kyle had someone watching me? What if they knew it was happening, killed Jake, then disappeared?

If I was going to make it out of this, with my brother, I needed a plan. A foolproof plan.

Maybe, if I wasn’t being watched, I could try to follow one of them. See where they were going, if those places had basements. Then wait until everyone was out or asleep, go in, get Jake, then run.

No, I didn’t have much money now that Kyle had taken the stacks of cash Rico had given me. But what did money matter in this kind of situation? Sleeping on park benches or in shelters while we figured it out was better than being under Kyle’s thumb.

It would take time to try to find Jake, though. Maybe even more than a week or two. That meant that I was going to need to do what they wanted from me until then.

And doing that meant betraying Rico.

That hurt more than I thought it would.

I guess maybe because it was Kyle taking yet another thing from me. Or the hope of something, since I didn’t actually have Rico, no matter how many times I may have imagined that.

“What’s gonna happen to you?” I asked Evander as I rubbed his back. “Who’s going to feed you the expensive food and give you milk?” Evander looked up at me with his big yellow eyes, like he understood, like he was wondering the same thing. “Maybe I can take you with us,” I said, even though I knew that potentially living on the street in the middle of winter wouldn’t be fair to him. “Or I can… leave you at the shop for Rico to find. You like Rico. I don’t blame you. I like him too.”

When I finally had the address for my brother, I could just… bring Evander to the meat shop with me, sneak in the always-unlocked back door, and stick him in the office where no one but Rico ever went.

He would know then.

That I’d been the one to betray him, to steal from him. But maybe finding out that I’d left Evander in his care would make him see that I had no choice, that I didn’t want to screw him over.

Evander jumped down and made his way down the hallway, prompting me to stand, wiping tears from my eyes as I locked my door then walked around the apartment, setting things that weren’t broken to rights again.

Not only had Kyle found the money Rico had given me, but he’d taken the hundred bucks I had stashed in the freezer with my pizzas.

It wasn’t everything I had to my name. I had a paycheck going into my account the following day. And a small savings.

Enough to get us out of the city and a cheap rental.

So long as one, or both, of us could get a job quickly, we could rebuild, could heal.

I hated that my only option was to run, to keep running. While Kyle just got to go on living his life. No punishment, nothing to stop him from continuing the cycle of abuse.

What other option did I have, though?

I had to get away from him for good.

Not just a borough away.

An entire country away, if that’s what needed to happen.

Until then, I had to play my part.

I had to steal from Rico.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Rico

“Looking for me?” I asked as I came in through the back door of the meat shop to find Kick rushing around the corner after, I assumed, looking for me in the office.

“What?” she asked, eyes going wide. “Oh, uh, I was, just going to my locker,” she said, her words tripping over themselves to tumble out, everything about her strung a little too tightly.

“You alright?” I asked as she rushed past me, holding a sweater to her chest.

“Yeah, fine,” she said, getting to the lockers, then reaching out toward hers.

It was then that I realized she’d actually put a lock on hers.

My gaze slid along the line of lockers, not seeing any others with locks. That was… strange.

“You having an issue with your locker?” I asked as she turned the dial to plug in her combination.

“What do you mean?”

“You locked it,” I told her as the lock came undone, making her pull it away, open the locker, ball up her sweater, and shove it inside the locker.

“Oh, yeah. Tips have been good lately,” she said, voice tight. “I just wanted to, you know, keep ‘em safe.”

That was a reasonable enough answer. Still, something was rubbing me wrong about it. I mean, I’d seen her purse just sitting on the table every day since she’d been hired. She’d never seemed worried about her money before. Which made me think something had happened that she just didn’t want to talk about, maybe not wanting to point fingers at coworkers.

“Kick, I need—“ Ricky said, rushing into the back, stopping short when he saw me.

“What do you need?” Kick asked, slamming her locker, and making sure she slid the lock back in and clicked it closed, despite it only being the three of us in the building.

There was no way she suspected Ricky of stealing from her, right?

I mean, no, the guy wasn’t part of my family, so he didn’t get the implicit trust those men and women got. But I trusted him with my business. The man would never steal from me or mine.

“My wife called,” Ricky said, voice just shy of frantic. “My boy is in the hospital.”

“Oh,” Kick said, her hand flying to her heart for a kid she’d never met.

“Go,” I said, nodding at Ricky. When he hesitated, I reached out, grabbing his shoulder. “Go. Family comes before everything else,” I said. “Kick and I got this,” I added, waving around the shop.

“Yeah, of course. Go. I hope everything is alright.”

“Let me know if you need anything,” I said as Ricky grabbed his jacket out of his locker, then rushed out of the back door.

“I, ah, I have this,” Kick said, waving toward the shop as a whole. “If you need to get going.”

“I’m not leaving you alone in a shop at night,” I said, shaking my head at her.

Bastian was usually around, but he’d been offered to work a job with Cinna and Dav, so he was off trying to make some money and gain more favor from Renzo.

“Okay,” Kick said, giving me a smile that seemed even tighter than before. “I have to, ah, finish cleaning up.”

With that, she moved away from me, casting another look at her locker before making her way out front.

I locked the back door before following her to the front, where I locked that door as well, wanting to make sure she was safe as she moved around, wiping down the counters and meat slicers. The chairs were up on the tables, the floor still shiny from mopping.

The place had never been cleaner since she started working.

“How’s Evander doing?” I asked when she caught me watching her.

“He’s staying in more,” she told me.

“Yeah? Something happen?” I asked, watching something dark cross her eyes. But she shook her head.

“He’s just been… clingier. I guess he’s finally warming up to me.”

That was a good thing. So why did she sound like she was about to cry about it?

I wouldn’t pretend to know a lot about women. Sure, the Lombardi family was the only one in the city—so far—to have female capos. And, yeah, I worked alongside them a lot. But Cinna and Saff kind of leaned into either their cold and ruthless—in Cinna’s case—or hot-tempered and impulsive—when it came to Saff. They never really displayed any other emotions. At least not around any of us. Which made sense. I couldn’t imagine it was easy for a woman working in such a brutal and male-dominated world like organized crime. They had to shut that shit down to protect themselves.

Outside of my work relationships, I’d never really spent a lot of time with women. Work had always come first in my life. Which meant time with women was on the short side and purely for fun. No distractions.

“That’s good. What you wanted, right?” I asked.

“Yeah, I just… damnit!” she yelped, snatching her hand away from the slicer, holding it against her chest as she squeezed it into a fist.

“You get cut?” I asked, making my way toward her. Those meat slicers were insanely sharp. Ricky was really strict about teaching the new guys how to use them properly so there were no accidents. I never stopped to consider how you could cut yourself while just cleaning it.

“Yes. Fuck,” she said, wincing. “I’m afraid to look and see if I’m missing a piece of my finger,” she said, looking a little pale at the very idea.

“I’ll look,” I said, reaching for her wrist to pull it away from her chest. “Gonna have to unfurl for me here,” I said as she turned her head to the side like a little kid about to get a shot and not wanting to watch the needle slide in.

Her fingers slid open, all of them covered in a coat of blood. She was bleeding like crazy. Bad enough that I was a little worried a part of her finger would be sitting on the meat slicer too.

“Come here,” I said, pulling her with me toward the sink in the back. “I can’t see through the blood,” I explained as I ran the water warm and pulled her hand under the stream. “Okay,” I said, feeling better when I got a good look. “You aren’t missing any parts,” I told her as she kept her head diverted, taking slow, deep breaths. “You just kinda… split it. The skin is still attached but kind of just hanging on. I’m gonna have to put some butterfly closures on this. Unless you wanna go and get stitches.”

“Ah, no. I’d rather not. You’re sure I can just do the closures?”

“Yeah, I’ve treated shit worse than this with them,” I told her, grabbing some paper towels and wrapping them around her hand. “Squeeze hard. We gotta try to stop the bleeding so I can see what I’m doing to close it up,” I told her.

My hand went to her hip, guiding her with me toward my office, then pressing her down into my chair as I walked away to go grab the medical kit, having little flashbacks to doing the same thing not long ago.

“You alright?” I asked as I came back to spread the box of butterfly closures, a pack of gauze, and a saline solution tube on the top of the desk.

“Yeah. I think it’s slowing down,” she said. “I can feel my pulse in my finger,” she added, seeming to speak mostly to herself.

“That’s normal,” I told her, reaching for a package of disposable gloves.

“Have you ever sliced your finger like this?”

“Once.”

“On a meat slicer?” she asked, watching me as I put the gloves on.

“On a pocketknife,” I admitted, memory flashing to a back alley fight in my early twenties, back when Renzo was fighting tooth-and-nail to take back the neighborhood. All we did was brawl back then. Get knocked around. Break bones. Treat lacerations. Wonder how bad a concussion had to be before we sought actual treatment.

“What? Were you playing with it or something?” she asked as I pulled the tab off the tube of saline.

“If by playing with it you mean trying to stab someone with it while they beat the shit out of me, yeah,” I said, watching her brows raise, her eyes going round.

“Fought a lot when I was younger,” I told her, only half giving her the truth as I leaned the saline against the kit to pull her hand over to me and remove the paper towel. “And this area used to be a lot rougher back then,” I added, checking the cut again before slipping some gauze under her finger, and spraying the saline over her finger to make sure it was clean before I sealed it up. “You good?”

“Yeah. It just burns. It’s not that bad now,” she said.

“It’s probably gonna be throbbing for a day or two,” I said as I carefully applied the butterfly closures. “I used one of these,” I added, reaching to pull a finger brace out of the kit, “for the first few days, so I didn’t keep accidentally bumping the finger while it healed. We’ll tell Ricky that you’re off the slicer for a week or so,” I told her.

“That’s, like, half my job,” she insisted.

“Someone else was handling it while you were home recovering. They can do it again for a few days. There’s plenty other shit to do around here,” I told her as I tossed the saline and reached for a new small roll of gauze wrap. “Gonna wrap it for now. But you’re gonna want to check it occasionally, make sure it’s not looking red or puffy. It should be fine, though.”

“Okay,” she agreed, watching me as I squatted in front of her and started to wrap her finger up and secure it with some paper tape.

“You’re on a bad luck run lately, huh?” I asked, pressing her hand onto her thigh when I was done, my hand still resting there, even though I knew I should pull it away, move away.

“You have no idea,” she said with a deep exhale, her gaze looking haunted for a moment before her expression went blank.

“Anything you could use some help with? I’m good at a lot of shit,” I added. I’d been the Jack of all Trades for the family almost since the beginning.

“No, it’s just… no,” she said.

“It’s something. You’re tense as fuck. Been jumpy too.”

She looked stricken at that for a moment before shaking the look off.

“No. I’m fine. Just too much coffee lately, I guess. I haven’t been sleeping well,” she said, and that, at least, rang true. “Just, you know, can’t shut my mind off, I guess.”

“Been there,” I said, nodding. I’d spent most of my life worrying about the family, about every small cog in the wheel of the whole operation. There were many sleepless nights when shit was going sideways and we were struggling to keep things in line. “If you ever want to talk,” I added.

“Thanks,” she said, suddenly getting to her feet, making the chair slide back hard enough to hit the wall. “But, I, ah, want to do anything but talk about it,” she said as I got to my feet.

We were close.

Just a whisper between us.

We seemed to both realize it in unison.

Up this close, I got to watch her pupils blow wide as she looked at me, her gaze doing a triangle from my eyes to my lips and back again.

There was a litany of reasons why I had no business putting my hands on Kick.

Yet not a single one came to mind right then as my hand lifted, sliding to the back of her neck, and pulling her against me.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Kick

I had eight-hundred dollars wrapped up in a sweater in my locker to bring home and add to the three-thousand I’d already stolen.

Not, in the grand scheme of things, a lot of money. But enough to get my brother fed. I hoped.

Every nerve ending felt fried.

Especially when Rico caught me on the way to my locker. When his keen eyes took in the abnormality of the lock I now had on it. How he saw my nervousness, my jumpiness.

I hadn’t lied to him. I hadn’t been sleeping. And I had been guzzling pots of coffee to combat the sleeplessness.

It wasn’t helping things, I knew, to not be getting rest. But anytime I started to nod off, my mind was full of nightmares of watching my brother being tortured to death while Kyle held onto me, forcing me to watch.

Since it wasn’t just a nightmare, but the possibility of my future, the potential of Jake’s present moment, there was no going to sleep after that.

So I stress cleaned and tried to think of a way out of this situation. Like, I don’t know, getting a second or third job to make extra money to give to Kyle.

The thing was, I knew how that would go. He would grow to expect that exact amount of money while I burned my body out trying to keep making it. The second I let the ball drop and was short one week, Jake would pay for it.

I did notice someone following me to and from work, but when I was running out to do errands, I didn’t spy anyone. So I had plans after work to finally sneak back out and try to follow them to see where they were going.

If I could find and free Jake, all of this would be over.

Until then, I had to keep taking money from the register.

While ignoring the knot in my stomach at stealing from a good man like Rico. Literally the only man I’d come across in my whole damn life who seemed to want to be kind to me, see what he could do for me instead of the other way around.

I couldn’t let my mind go there, though.

Not even as he squatted in front of me, carefully cleaning and bandaging my cut.

Within a minute or two, there was no pain anymore. All I could focus on was the way my heartbeat was thrumming an uneven beat, how my skin felt warm and overly sensitive as he touched me.

Despite the mess my life had become, the other things I should have been focusing on, I couldn’t seem to stop my mind from wandering, my heart from hoping.

Thinking how, if things were different, I would let this moment become something else. How I could lean into him. Could reach for him. Could ask for what my body had been demanding since the moment I’d met him.

But I couldn’t have those things.

I was already screwing him over.

The betrayal would be tenfold if things got less than professional between us.

All those thoughts flew out of my mind as I got to my feet, ready to rush out of there before I did anything stupid. Then he stood, misjudging the space between us.

I was pretty sure if I took too deep of a breath, my chest would brush his.

I could feel the heat of his body.

His heady woodsmoke and cigar scent was overpowering my senses, making my thoughts thick and slow as my gaze slipped helplessly to his lips.

I saw the intention flash before his eyes just a moment before his hand was lifting, sliding around my neck to grab the back, then pulling me flush against him.

My breath caught at the feel of his hard lines against my softer ones.

The heat in his eyes was warm enough to melt whatever was left of my reservations just a second before his head ducked and his lips landed on mine.

It was achingly slow at first. A brush. Soft, testing, teasing.

But then his arm slid around my lower back, holding onto me more firmly, and the kiss deepened, his mouth got more insistent, lips parting over mine, coaxing more from me.

A small sound escaped my throat, and he took it as the encouragement it was. He tilted back my head to fully claim my mouth.

The world around us, the worries inside of me, all fell away. I could feel nothing but the nearness of him, could think of nothing else but the desire blooming through my system.

Rico’s fingers slid up, threading into my hair, holding onto me more firmly.

I pressed closer, feeling his heartbeat race in time with mine.

Every brush of his lips or sweep of his tongue felt like a slow-building fire that threatened to consume the both of us completely.

As his mouth moved from mine, tracing a line across my jaw, a shiver moved down my spine. His lips found that sensitive little spot just under my ear, his breath warm on my skin, making a small sigh escape me.

“Tell me no,” he murmured. A demand, a plea.

“I can’t,” I whispered back as I arched against him, my hand sliding up his side, then wrapping around the back of his neck as my lips claimed his again.

If this was the way I was going to burn, I wanted him to light me up. I wanted to dance in the flames with him until there was nothing left but embers and ashes.

For just once, for just this moment, I was going to get exactly what I wanted.

I could feel any reservations leaving Rico as he crushed me to him, as he turned us, then reached down, grabbing me, lifting me, and depositing me down on the top of the desk.

He moved between my thighs as his lips pressed harder, demanded more, claimed everything.

My good hand was digging into his shoulder as he pulled my legs around him until I crossed my ankles, holding onto him.

He pushed closer, his hardness against the heat of me, making a moan escape my lips as I rocked shamelessly against him.

A deep rumble moved through Rico, vibrating into my chest, leaving trembles in its wake as my lips got hotter and hungrier on his.

Rico’s hands slid down my sides, sinking into my hips, using them to rock me against his hardness, fanning the flames inside of me as he drove me up.

But his jeans and my pants were too thick, too restrictive, making a low grumble escape me as the pleasure felt just out of my grasp.

Rico’s lips spread to a smile against mine before they fully broke away.

“No,” I whimpered as he pulled against my legs, against their hold of him.

“Shh,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my swollen lips as he moved back.

Reaching down, he grabbed my legs, tilting them up until I had no choice but to lower fully back against the desk.

His hands went between us then, grabbing the waistbands of my pants and panties and starting to pull.

My feet pressed into his stomach to use him as leverage to push up, allowing him to slide the material off of my ass, then down my hips.

The cool air washed across my overheated skin.

Anticipation shivered through me as he freed me, as his fingers teased the bare skin of my ankles then calves. Then he was grabbing my knees, pulling, spreading them wide for him.

My core tightened as his fingers teased up my inner thighs, as they drifted across the triangle above my sex.

Then, eyes holding mine, his fingers traced up my cleft; the barely-there touch making my inner thighs shake as desire surged.

Rico’s eyes warmed as his thumb found my clit, teasing it with whisper-soft circles until I was writhing and whimpering for more.

Only then did his fingers slip downward and press inside of me.

I nearly fell apart just then as my back arched and a low, deep moan escaped me.

“That’s a good fucking sound,” Rico said, his voice a sexy rumble with his own need.

Then there was no more talking, no more teasing, no more taking it slow.

The need became this overpowering thing, stealing everything but the end to the torment coiled in my lower stomach.

Sensing the change, Rico’s fingers started to thrust harder, faster, as his thumb continued to circle.

As my moans started to fill the room—shameless, desperate—that low rumble moved through Rico again.

“I need to taste you,” he said.

Then his thumb was off of my clit.

But before I could object, Rico was lowering himself into the desk chair and moving between my legs. His tongue replaced his thumb, the sensation making me arch off the desk as my hand slapped down on the back of his neck, holding him against me.

Rico had no intentions of moving away, though, as his tongue continued to trace delicious little circles and his fingers turned inside of me, stroking against my top wall, creating a new sensation that had my desire coiling tighter and tighter, ready to explode.

Then, with one more circle and one more stroke, I did.

The orgasm soared through me, making my back arch and my thighs clamp to the sides of Rico’s head as the pleasure rolled through me over and over and my moans filled the room.

As soon as my legs stopped crushing his skull, Rico’s head shifted upward, kissing over the triangle of my sex, down the crease of my thigh, over my inner thigh.

He was halfway to my knee when there was a loud banging on the back door.

Rico was slow to straighten.

I, however, shot up on the desk.

Whether that was because my nerves were shot and I was always expecting the worst, or that I was, you know, bare-ass naked from the waist down, was anyone’s guess.

“Ignore it,” Rico said, leaning down to press his lips into my neck, making a sweet little shiver move through me.

The knocking stopped.

But was quickly replaced by a ringing in Rico’s pocket just as his teeth nipped my earlobe, dragging a little whimper of need out of me again.

“Damnit,” he growled, reaching into his pocket. But his head was still in my neck, his warm breath on my skin, as he pulled the phone to his ear and barked an impatient, “What?”

A smile tugged at my lips at his irritation, loving the idea of him being as desperate for me as I still felt for him.

“Fuck,” he growled then as he listened to whoever was on the line. When he pulled back and looked at me with regret in those dark eyes of his, I knew we wouldn’t be going any further that night. “Fine. Yeah. Give me a few,” he said, taking a slow, deep breath as he set his phone on the counter.

“You have to go,” I said as I watched him.

“Yeah,” he said, pressing his forehead to mine as he took another breath, likely trying to reason with the desire coursing through his body. “Rather stay here,” he added.

God, I wanted that too.

For the moment I had left with him, I closed my eyes tight; I breathed him in; I enjoyed the closeness.

We seemed to sense the moment ending in unison, both of us pulling away.

Rico handed me my pants and panties, then helped me pull up my pants when I accidentally jammed my finger against my leg in the process.

“Splint,” he said, handing me the one out of the medical kit.

“Thanks,” I said. “I, ah, have to get my stuff out of the locker,” I said as I started to move away, my legs feeling wobbly.

As soon as the office door was closed behind me, I rushed to my locker, working the lock free, then shoving the stolen cash into my purse before pulling on my sweater.

“I’m gonna put you in a cab,” Rico said as he came out of the office.

“No, it’s alright. I can walk.”

“Babe, I’m putting you in a cab,” he said, going to the back door and unlocking it. “What’s the matter?” he asked when I froze halfway to the door.

“I didn’t finish cleaning. My blood might even be—“

“Don’t worry about it,” he cut me off.

“But it’s—“

“Kick,” he interjected again. “Don’t worry about it. If there’s a mess, I’ll handle it. Go home. Get some sleep.”

“Okay,” I agreed, mostly only because he wasn’t giving me much of a choice as he pressed a hand into my lower back and pushed me out of the side door.

The alley was dark, but I could make out the form of a man a few feet away, making a gasp escape me, sure it was Kyle or one of his men coming for me. Or, worse yet, Jake left for dead.

“It’s fine. That’s Coal,” he said as he kept pushing me up to the edge of the alley.

As we approached, Coal kept his head down, but I saw how busted-up his face was regardless.

That was why he had to go? His friend was hurt?

“Is he okay?” I asked as Rico moved toward the edge of the curb, throwing up an arm when he saw a taxi down the street.

“He’s fine, babe. Don’t worry about him,” he said as he reached into his back pocket, pulling out a wad of cash, and peeling off several bills. “Go on. Get in. Get home. Get some sleep,” he said, pressing the cash into my hand. Then, before I could object, he slammed the door and patted his hand on the hood of the cab.

Feeling something akin to heartsick, I watched his shadow as the taxi drove off and he disappeared.

Only then did I look down at the money he’d given me.

A hundred bucks.

For a two-minute cab ride.

More money for Kyle, I guessed.

Though as I pushed what I didn’t need for the taxi into the pile of the rest of the stolen cash, tears were flooding my eyes.

Sure, I was putting the money toward getting my brother back.

But I was losing everything I wanted with Rico.

And he had no idea how badly I was betraying him.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Rico

“The fuck you mean he was jumped?” Renzo snapped as I stood in his living room first thing the next morning, not wanting to wake him up on the first night he’d called it early to go home and spend time with his wife all week.

“Just that. He was jumped.”

“The fuck didn’t he call me?” Renzo asked as he walked over to his coffee pot.

“He was close to the meat shop,” I explained. “He decided to make his way there in case the fucks came back.”

Renzo nodded at that, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

“Does he know who it was?”

“No. Two guys,” I explained.

“Makes sense. Only way that kid is losing a fight is if he’s outnumbered,” Renzo said.

Coal was his little pet project.

The kid started out as an enemy of the family. But after enduring some brutal beatings as Renzo tried to get information out of him without losing his cockiness or begging for mercy, Renzo kind of decided he would be better as a part of our family than potentially working against it.

Coal was a street kid, on his own for a long time. Which made him hard and hungry and eager to prove his worth. The kid was forever carrying around a black eye, busted lip, or ripped open knuckles. And we allowed it because it was always good for the people on the streets to remember how willing we were to spill blood.

It was rare for someone to win against him.

And it was not good that two guys who should have known who Coal belonged to decided to fuck him up anyway.

Renzo sighed. “Did Coal get any good licks in?”

“Never seen his knuckles so bloody,” I confirmed. I’d taken him with me into the bathroom to clean him up. Partly because I needed the water from the sink. But also because my office smelled like blueberries and sex.

Even just the thought of what happened in my office had my cock nearly springing to life again. Despite having tried to relieve that urge twice already.

Nothing, I was starting to see, was going to make it go away but getting inside of her, fucking through the connection that had grown between us.

If only fucking work would let up for two minutes.

“So, there should be two guys walking around Brooklyn pretty fucked up right now,” Renzo concluded.

“Yeah. I mean, unless they have the good sense to lie low.”

“If they’re jumping a Lombardi soldier, I think it’s safe to say they don’t have much in the way of sense.”

“True. I did get word out to the capos about what happened, but I wanted to wait to talk to you before we give them permission to talk to their soldiers or associates.”

To that, Renzo nodded as he took a sip of his coffee. “Let’s tell them to be on the lookout for guys who are fucked up. We don’t have to tell them all the details. Tell Coal to take a few days off at home to recover. But the more eyes on the street, the better. We need to find these fucks and see who they are working for. If anyone.”

That was what I was thinking too.

It was why Renzo put so much work on my shoulders. We’d been working side-by-side for so long we practically shared a brain.

“Anything else going on that I need to know about?”

“I put out that fire with Cage,” I said. He was another of Renzo’s pet projects. The spoiled, fucked-up son of a previous capo, Cage had gotten himself into all sorts of shit before Renzo got his hands on him, dusted him off, cleaned him up, and put him to work.

Since then, he’d been a pretty reliable soldier. Not our biggest earner, but doing good work. It was a job he was working on that went sideways, making him step on the toes of a local crew who was pissed off about the interference. It only required a little smoothing over. But I had to relocate Cage to a different neighborhood to avoid any future altercations.

“Good. Alright. Well, let me know if you hear anything before I do about the shit with Coal.”

“Will do,” I agreed.

“How’s business?” he asked.

“Good. The slight price hike is still less than a lot of the stores in the area, so people aren’t bitching. You got some money you need to pass through?” I asked.

Like any money laundering operation, I had two sets of books. The ones I’d show the IRS if they came looking, cooked to inflate certain expenses, and the ones that showed me how much money I was washing through the business and sending back into pockets. Mostly just mine and Renzo’s. It was everyone else’s job to figure out how to wash their cash.

“Yeah,” Renzo said, heading into his office and coming back with a backpack. “Twenty-five grand, give or take,” he told me. “Too much at once?”

“I can make it work with all the renovations. Got the new slicers and TVs and shit from the backs of trucks, more or less. It’ll all shake out.”

“Good. Thanks.”

“Renzo, where did you put my book?” Lore, Renzo’s wife, called from upstairs.

“You, ah, knocked it off of the nightstand last night, remember?” Renzo called, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“I’ll let you get back to your girl,” I said, slinging the backpack strap over my shoulder, then making my way to the door.

I couldn’t help it; my mind drifted back to Kick in the office yet again.

I never gave much thought to relationships in the past. Maybe it was the members of my family starting to shack up that made me stop to consider the possibility for my own future.

Renzo with Lore. Cinna and Dav. Elian and Elizabeth. I was one of the few of the OG guys who hadn’t started considering rings and kids and shit like that.

A handful of interactions with Kick and I was suddenly envisioning that shit. Things came to mind that I’d never considered before. Like how my apartment with its one spare bedroom wouldn’t be big enough if I decided to have kids. And that it was a logistical nightmare from a safety standpoint if I were looking to protect anyone aside from myself.

“Christ,” I said, raking a hand down my face as I moved out of the elevator and walked out of Renzo’s building.

I made my way back to the meat shop then, not wanting to be walking around with that much cash on me.

I stored it in the safe behind a picture in my office that I’d had installed during the renovations, keeping the dirty money separated from the clean cash that was in the safe under my desk.

There was no rush in getting to balancing the books, but with nothing else to do to occupy my time meaning that all I would do was think about Kick and what we started before Coal interrupted the night before. So I sat down and got to work.

When I emerged hours later, shit wasn’t adding up.

I mean, it was just a couple grand off of where my figures said shit should have been. But there was the possibility that Renzo had given me less than he’d said. Or maybe my math wasn’t mathing.

It wasn’t enough that I was going to sweat about it. But the next time I balanced the books, I was going to pay closer attention to make sure it wasn’t a trend.

“Ma, the fuck’d you do to yourself now?” I heard Ricky ask as I made my way out front, mind on something to eat before I hit the streets along with the rest of the family to see if I could track down the assholes who’d jumped Coal.

“I wasn’t being careful when I was cleaning the meat slicer,” Kick’s voice reached me even before stepping into the front of the shop.

“Fuck, girl,” Ricky said, hissing. “Did you lose part of your finger?”

“No, thank God. It’s just a deep slice. I have butterfly closures on it.”

“So, Kick is off of sandwiches for a bit,” I said, watching as Kick’s head whipped over toward me. For a second, her eyes brightened. But way too quickly, the light faded and something darker took its place.

“Yeah, no big deal. I can handle that. Always plenty of stocking or cleaning to do,” Ricky said. He was a good manager because he was so ready to roll with the punches.

“I’m sorry to be a nuisance again,” Kick said, wincing at Ricky.

“Nah, don’t say that. We all have mishaps.”

“Oh! Speaking of,” Kick said, pressing a hand to her heart. “How is your son?”

“He’s good. Fell off his skateboard. Broke his arm. But the wife was scared shitless that he had a bad head injury. He was bleeding all over. Turns out his helmet sliced his head. Saved his brain, but did a little damage of its own.”

“I’m glad he’s okay,” Kick said.

“Kids’ll turn your hair white,” Ricky warned, waving at the streaks starting to weave through his hair at the temples. “You planning on having any?”

“Oh, I haven’t really given that a lot of thought,” Kick admitted.

“Eh, you’re young still. Good to get all the crazy out before you settle down. The kids will take up that mantle in due time. Yo, Marcus, you owe me fifty bucks on that game last night,” Ricky called as another employee came in the front door. “Can you believe that shit?” he asked, the two men starting to talk about the game as Kick tried to busy herself, doing everything she could, it seemed, to avoid looking at me.

“How’s the finger feeling?” I asked.

“It’s okay. I had a hell of a time trying to wash my hair one-handed this morning, but the splint definitely helps avoid hitting it too much. Though, Evander has taken it as a personal attack against him.”

“That cat’s a piece of work.”

“He definitely has a lot of character,” she agreed. And, again, the light that grew got tamped down by a strange sadness.

“Did you get some sleep?” I asked.

“Some,” she said, but the bags under her eyes told a different story.

“Hey,” I said, moving closer, towering over her. “What’s going on?” I asked.

“What?” she squeaked. “Nothing,” she insisted, but it took a second for her eyes not to seem so wide and worried.

“Babe, come on…”

“I’m just all off because of the insomnia,” she said, shrugging it off.

I wanted to press.

But the other workers were filing in. And, well, trying to get information out of a woman who didn’t want to give it to me wasn’t exactly a skill in my wheelhouse.

“You need anything from me?” I asked as I passed Ricky.

“Nah, man. This is a well-oiled machine.”

“Alright. I’ll be back later. One of my guys will be out front if anything seems fishy.”

With that, I headed out, thinking that with a little space, I might think about Kick less.

Which, of course, backfired.

Leading me back to the meat shop right at closing time, intent on finishing what we started in my office, figuring that if we finally acted on the need between us, maybe we could put all of this behind us and get back to normal.

Before I could even go in, though, I saw her coming out of the front door with Marcus, who turned to lock the door then pull down the security gate.

“See ya’,” Marcus said to Kick before turning to walk off in the opposite direction.

I shook my head, annoyed that he hadn’t offered to walk her home. Even if, prior to things getting less than professional between us, I hadn’t exactly offered to see her home at night either.

I was a few feet away. She hadn’t spotted me yet. So I got to watch as she pulled her hood up against the cold wind whipping down the streets then looked side to side. Almost as if she was looking for someone, expecting someone.

The jealousy reared up, sudden and unexpected, a twisting, burning sensation in the gut as I imagined some other guy walking her home, going into her apartment with her, taking her to bed.

Before I realized, a low, almost growling sound escaped me, making Kick’s head whip in my direction.

Where I was standing, I must have been cast in shadow, because I watched as her posture went stiff, then she turned, and started to power walk away.

“Kick!” I called, jogging toward her. “Wait up.”

“Rico?” she asked, her hand flying to her chest as she turned back toward me.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” I said. “Gonna walk you home,” I said. Then I saw her face fall. “You have other plans?” I asked, bothered more than I should have been at her reaction.

“No,” she said, shaking off the look. “No, of course not. Okay. Thanks.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Kick

I did have other plans.

Big plans, actually.

Because I was pretty sure I had a lead on Kyle and his guys.

When I’d gotten home the night before after what happened in the office, I hadn’t been able to sleep; my mind was too occupied with thoughts of Rico.

Instead, I’d gone back to my research. The stuff I’d started before Kyle had turned up and told me that my brother wasn’t missing at all, but held hostage.

And I was pretty sure I found a connection between some of the robberies and a general location in the Bronx.

When I’d really connected all the dots on my map, they all made this big rectangle. Almost like whomever was doing them was actively trying to avoid doing robberies in the area in the center.

Which, I felt like I’d heard in a bunch of primetime crime dramas, likely meant that the perpetrators likely lived in that area.

Or, at least, that was the theory I was working with. And after work, I was going to go to that area and start looking around, see if I saw Kyle or that other guy.

Kyle, I knew from years of living with him, had an addiction to soda from the machines at the bodegas. Cans and bottles didn’t do it for him. He had to get them from the store.

I figured if I could stake out one convenience store a night, I might be able to catch him going to get his fix.

Sure, it was likely going to be a long, frustrating process. But it seemed better than sitting on my ass in my apartment, wondering if Jake was being tortured, or if Kyle was going to snatch me off of the street someday because I wasn’t giving him as much money as he wanted.

Those plans were, if not completely shot, at least delayed, by Rico showing up.

I knew I was supposed to be annoyed by the interruption. I couldn’t seem to fight against the relief, though. And the surge of excitement was almost instantaneous and uncontrollable. No matter how wrong it was, given how I was screwing over Rico and his business.

I tried to tell myself that agreeing to let him walk me was smart because refusing would draw suspicion. But I was just making excuses for wanting to spend a little time with him.

“How’s the finger?”

“It’s okay. I unwrapped it earlier to check it. All good so far. I don’t think it will be more than a few days before I can take off the splint and the wrap.”

“Don’t try to remove those closures, though,” he warned. “Let ‘em come off on their own,” he added as we turned down my street.

I tensed, wondering if Kyle’s spies would be waiting for me, would see me with Rico and get some wrong ideas about my connection to him, and my ability to, I don’t know, get more money off of him because of it.

But the streets were empty and we walked into the building alone.

The warm air stung at my exposed skin as we moved into the elevator. It wasn’t until we were inside of it that it occurred to me that I should have said goodbye to Rico at the front door. Not held the door open and silently invited him up.

But by the time I realized, it was too late.

Maybe that was what my subconscious had planned all along.

I was reaching into my pocket for my key when Rico grabbed my wrist from behind, turning me, then pressing me against my doorway as his lips crashed down on mine.

There was none of the tentativeness of the last kiss. No soft, sweet exploration.

His lips were hungry on mine, pressing hard, demanding a response.

And I simply… melted into him.

One of my arms went up around his neck, holding him close as the other went to the side of his neck as his lips slanted over mine again and again, as his tongue teased the seam of my lips before moving in to stroke over mine.

His hands slid down my back to sink into my ass, dragging me more firmly against him, making me aware of his own desire as it pressed against me, making my own spread, heating me from the inside out until my jacket, my shirt, my everything felt too hot and restrictive.

He held me against him for a long moment before his hand shifted, going into my pocket to get the key I’d been reaching for, taking it, and stabbing it into the lock.

He walked me backward into the apartment, turning me, and slamming me back against the door from the inside this time.

Reaching down, he grabbed the back of my thigh, pulling it up, and hooking it around his lower back. Wrapping both of my arms around his neck for leverage, I lifted the other leg as well.

Then he was turning, walking over toward the couch, and dropping down with me straddling him.

Completely consumed by my need, I dropped my hips down onto his lap, feeling his hardness against my need. A low moan escaped me as Rico’s hands went to my hips, rocking me against him.

When I rocked against him again, his hands slid away from my hips. He grabbed the zipper of my jacket, pulling it down, then slipped the material off of my shoulders.

The relief was instantaneous.

Then I felt his fingertips whispering over the skin of my stomach as he started to lift my shirt.

I lifted my arms up, allowing him to pull the shirt free, leaving me in a very boring black bra with no frills since I hadn’t anticipated anyone but myself seeing it when I’d bought it.

Rico didn’t seem to mind, though, as that sexy little rumble moved through him and the backs of his fingers teased up my sides before his hands closed over my breasts.

My head fell back and Rico took it as an invitation, leaning in to press his lips to the column of my neck. The barely-there kisses and strokes of his tongue had wildfires spreading across my skin, burning me up.

His hands shifted behind my back, working my clasps free, then pulling the straps down my shoulders, before tossing the bra away completely.

That rumble, now more of a growl, moved through him again.

Then he was suddenly pressing his face between my breasts, taking a deep breath as a shiver moved down my spine at the nearness of him, the intimacy of the gesture.

But then his head shifted and his lips closed around my nipple, making a strangled moan escape me as my hand slapped on the back of his head, holding him against me as he sucked, licked, grazed with his teeth.

He shifted, continuing the sweet torture at my other breast as my hips rocked against him with wild abandon, every muscle in my body taut, desperate for relief from the need coiled in my core.

When he pulled away, his lips claimed mine again as his hands went up, working my hair free of my ponytail until the strands fell and teased across the bare skin of my shoulders.

I reached out, grabbing at his shirt, pulling until he sat up and pulled it off himself, tossing it to the side. Then he was grabbing me, pulling me against him.

His groan was muffled by my moan at the feel of his bare skin against me.

“Lift up,” he demanded, then grabbed my hips and pulled when I didn’t immediately do what he wanted.

His hands slid down my sides, grabbing the waistbands of my pants and panties, and drawing them down. I shifted, allowing him to free each leg.

Then I was completely bare for him.

His hands wasted no time sliding over my ass, squeezing. Then his hand was between my thighs, stroking up my cleft, making my legs shake.

“So wet for me already,” he murmured as his fingers slid down, then slipped inside of me, making a whimper escape me.

His gaze flicked to mine, intense, his lids heavy with his own desire as he watched me while his fingers retreated, then thrust back into me.

“Been thinking of nothing but this all fucking day,” he said, his fingers thrusting harder, driving me up faster.

My little mewls and whimpers were growing to loud moans as he flattened his palm against my cleft, engaging my clit as his fingers kept working me.

Getting close, I leaned forward, pressing my face into his neck as my walls tightened hard.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his free hand massaging the back of my neck, “come for me.”

Just like that, I did, crying out as the waves crashed over and over through me.

My body went slack as my heart hammered, as my breath came in shallow, frantic huffs.

Rico’s fingers were still inside me, doing lazy little circles that somehow managed to make the need start to grow once again.

Sensing the change, Rico was suddenly moving, sliding down. By the time I even understood his intentions, he was on the floor with only his head left on the couch cushions… right between my legs.

A moan escaped me even before I felt his tongue trace up my cleft to find my clit. He worked it in slow circles that had my thighs shaking, had me grabbing the back of the couch and panting for breath as the need for release grew more and more insistent with each passing second.

His fingers were still inside of me, thrusting, circling, then turning and stroking against my top wall.

My cries filled the apartment as he drove me closer and closer to the edge before, mercifully, pushing me over.

I was still folded forward, my face buried against the back of the couch to muffle the moans as I came when Rico slid out from under me, came up behind me, his fingers gliding over me.

Down my sides, the outside of my thighs, over my ass, up my back, and, finally, around to cup my breasts, pulling me back against him as his lips dipped in at my neck.

I let him tease me for another minute or two as a bit of calm came back to my breathing.

Then I was reaching for him, pressing him down on the couch, and moving to straddle him again.

I’d never been comfortable taking charge, but there was just something about Rico that made me feel safe, feel comfortable exploring him like he’d done me.

My lips kissed up his jaw, down his ear, the column of his neck, teasing the pulse with the tip of my tongue, then continuing down.

His breathing went fast and shallow as I kissed down his chest, then moved toward his stomach. His muscles tensed under the touch and his hand slapped down on the back of my neck as I kept moving lower. Not pushing, just holding on.

My lips met the waistband of his jeans, and I teased my tongue across it as my hand moved between to work his button and zipper free.

His breath sucked in as I reached inside, my hand closing around his thick cock.

A little whimper escaped me as my sex clenched, just the thought of him inside of me making me ache as I freed him from his pants before stroking him to the hilt.

Then I was leaning down, teasing my tongue around the head, down the underside of his length, loving the way his breath hissed out from between clenched teeth, how his fingers were crushing the back of my skull.

“Fuck,” he groaned as my lips finally closed around him, slowly sucking him deep.

His hips bucked when I took him as deep as I could. Then his hands were grabbing at my hair, gathering it and fisting it at the back of my neck.

“Look up at me,” he demanded, voice a gruff rumble that made my belly flip-flop. “Fuck,” he growled as my eyelids fluttered open and I looked up at him with his cock still deep in my mouth.

Then I was working him. Slowly at first, like he liked to tease me, then harder and faster, the taste of him filling my mouth, his grunts and groans spurring me on.

Until, suddenly, his hand was grabbing my hair, the pain a strange sort of pleasure across my scalp as he kept pulling until I had no choice but to move back until his cock slid from between my lips.

He kept pulling until I was climbing back on his lap.

Then his lips were on mine again.

Hard, almost bruising, as my hips dropped down, and I felt his cock glide against my cleft, making a shiver rack my system.

A rumble moved through Rico as his body shifted and his hand slid into his back pocket.

He fumbled one-handed with it, finding what he was looking for, then pushing me back so he could reach between us and slide on the condom.

Finished, he pulled my hips back down, let me continue to rock against him as his lips claimed mine, kissing me long and hard until my mouth felt swollen and oversensitive.

I pulled back, watching him with heavy-lidded eyes as I lifted up, then shifted back until I felt his thickness against me, then slowly slid down.

His low curse mingled with my long moan as I slid down to the base.

His hands moved down to grab my ass, dragging me against him, drawing a whimper out of me.

“Ride me,” he demanded, voice a rough demand.

Then I was. Hesitantly, at first, finding the motion that felt the best, then harder and faster as the need built inside, a tightening sensation that twisted more and more with each passing second.

“That’s it,” Rico said as my walls tightened around him. “Come for me.”

Then I was, burying my face in his neck and crying out as the waves crashed through me.

Rico worked me through it, his hips rocking up into me, dragging it out.

And when the orgasm finally released its hold on me, I still found him hard inside of me.

“Not done with you yet,” he said, teeth nipping playfully at my lips.

His arm anchored around my hips, then he was turning, rolling me under him on the couch, his lips on mine as my legs wrapped around him.

Then he was fucking me.

Hard and deep, taking every bit of me with each thrust.

“Fuck,” I whimpered, face against his neck, arms tight around him, holding on as he drove me closer and closer to that edge yet again. Every inch of me felt coiled, ready to shatter apart until, finally, I did.

The orgasm was an explosion with long aftershocks of pleasure that rolled through me endlessly as Rico kept fucking me, like he was getting off just as much on my pleasure as I was.

I was still trying to catch my breath when he was pulling away, rolling me onto my belly, then grabbing my hips, and pulling my ass up toward him.

His fingers flexed on my hip as I felt the head of him sliding up my cleft, teasing over my clit for a second, then sliding back and slamming deep inside of me.

I cried out against the cushion, my thighs clenching, finding myself even more sensitive than before as he started to fuck me. Not hard this time. Just fast. His breathing went ragged as my heart threatened to pound out of my chest.

His hand went around me, slipping between my thighs to engage my clit as he kept fucking me, demanding just one more orgasm out of my already tingling, exhausted body.

“There it is,” Rico groaned as my walls clenched around him. “Let me feel you squeeze my cock one more time,” he demanded. Then, like he ordered, I did. “Fuck,” he groaned. “That’s a good girl,” he said, making me whimper as he kept fucking me through it, then slammed deep and came with a groaned curse.

Rico dropped down on the couch next to me, pulling me back until my legs were draped over his lap and my head was rested against his shoulder.

His one arm draped across my hips. The other hand was holding the back of my neck, keeping me against him as if I had any intention of moving away.

I knew that the ugly realities of my life would come flooding back sooner than I wanted. I was going to let myself enjoy this for the short time that it lasted.

I sat there listening to the sound of Rico’s heartbeat and getting surrounded by woodsmoke and cigars, praying that the scent was all over me even after he left.

It was all just so… comforting. So cozy.

I was asleep before I was even aware of how tired I was.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Rico

I hugged Kick closer, then slowly lowered her down onto her side on the couch so I could get up.

Dragging my pants back up, I made my way down the hall and into the bathroom, cleaning up, then making my way into Kick’s bedroom to grab the covers off of her bed.

She’d been out cold on me for a solid half an hour before I moved and I hoped that if I could keep her warm, she would stay asleep and get the rest she so desperately needed.

“Hey, bud,” I greeted Evander who watched me cover up Kick from his position on the counter. “She didn’t feed you, huh?” I asked, walking over to scratch his head. “Listen, if I feed you, will you let her sleep?” I asked as I started to look through the cabinets until I found the little metal cans of food.

He watched me as I emptied it into his bowl, then stared up at me expectantly. “Oh, right. The milk,” I said, going into the fridge to get it, giving it a sniff, then pouring some into the other side of his bowl. “Heard you’ve been nicer to her lately,” I said as he ate. My own gaze slipped to the couch where Kick hadn’t moved an inch, her burgundy hair slightly covering her face, her lips parted in sleep. “I get it,” I added.

I expected to feel, I don’t know, done. Like I’d been thinking leading up to this. That I would fuck her out of my system, then I could move on. Stop obsessing about her. Stop picturing stupid shit like buying a new condo, one with extra bedrooms for kids, with enough room for a dining room that could seat us all.

“Christ,” I sighed as the cat finished his milk then started to clean himself.

I needed to get home, get some sleep myself. See if a little distance could make me more clear-headed.

Though some part of me was struggling to make my way to the door. Even if I knew it was the best for both of us.

What we had was fun.

But we both needed to move on now.

“Let her sleep, okay, man? She needs this,” I told Evander before locking the door, then making my way out.

Every step away from her apartment felt wrong as fuck. But I forced my legs to keep carrying me. Out of the building. Onto the street.

I spotted two guys hanging out a few buildings down and had the most insane urge to walk over there and beat their faces in on the off chance that they might want to break into Kick’s apartment.

And on that fucking crazy note, I walked my ass the whole way home in the cold. Which did jack-shit to chill the feelings I felt growing for Kick.

“Well, well, well,” Bass said as soon as I was inside the apartment, flicking on the lamp to reveal him sitting there with a drink in his hand.

“The fuck you doing sitting there like some mom waiting on her teenager out past curfew?”

“And where have you been, young man?” Bastian asked, a smirk tugging at his lips as I made myself a drink and moved to drop down on the couch. I saw him take a breath, and the light spark in his eyes. “Smelling like blueberries all over,” he said.

“Don’t.”

“Hey, it’s good, man. You’ve been wound like a fucking top. Can’t be good to go that long without a fuck.”

“Man, it’s been, what? A week or so since you moved in?”

“As an expert in going without sex, man, I feel like a week is too long. So, the fuck you doing home?”

“What are you talking about?” I asked as I sipped my whiskey, praying it did something to slow my swirling thoughts. All of ‘em involving Kick.

“Been mooning over this chick since before I got out. Figured if you finally sealed the deal, you’d be spending the night at least. Weekend. Month. Let me have this place all to myself,” he said, waving around the apartment. “Though, I’d have to take down all this art.”

“What’s wrong with the art?” I asked, glancing around. Granted, I hadn’t given it a lot of thought. I’d found the prints at some shop I’d popped into for paint. They, you know, matched the decor. That was all the thought that went into it.

“It’s bad, man,” he said, shaking his head at me. “I knew guys on the inside who did better work with pencils down to the nub on the backs of letters from their families.”

“Feel free to put something better up while you’re here.”

“While I’m here?” Bass asked. “This place is mine.”

“Where the fuck am I going?” I asked.

“I give it six months, ten max.”

“Until what?”

“You’re condo-hunting. Something with a few extra bedrooms. Bigger kitchen. His-and-hers closets…”

“It’s not like that,” I insisted, but even I heard the lack of emphasis in my voice.

“Sure sure. Out of curiosity,” he said, shooting me a smile, “did Renzo, Dav, and Elian say the same thing when they were in your shoes?”

“None of them were in my shoes. Renzo was securing a truce.”

“But fell in love with his wife.”

“Dav has always had this weird will-they-won’t-they with Cinna.”

“And then the two fully fell in love and are raising their teenagers together.”

“Elian, well, Elian always wanted a wife and kids. So that wasn’t surprising at all.”

“Let me ask you something,” Bass said, leaning forward so his forearms were on his thighs.

“Alright…”

“What the fuck makes you think you’re so different?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“All your closest friends, guys you see as family, they’re all settled down and it’s good for them, right?”

“Yeah.”

“The fuck makes you so different?” he asked, then got to his feet and walked off to his room.

Well, that wasn’t nearly as distracting as I would have liked.

Though, he did have a point, didn’t he?

Why did I think I couldn’t have what Renzo, Dav, and Elian had? If it was just because I never saw myself settling down, then I only needed to look at work-obsessed Renzo or only-down-for-a-fuck Dav to see that not looking for it didn’t mean you couldn’t latch onto it when it came your way.

Yeah, the one difference was that Kick was working for me. But it wasn’t like this was some dream job of hers that, if things got weird, she would feel really depressed to leave. It was just a way to pay bills. If things didn’t work out, she could find another job. Or, hell, keep working for me.

Why was I trying so hard to make it be a one-time thing? When, clearly, I wanted more than that.

Suddenly, I wished I’d stayed the night.

I imagined Kick would wake up—for her sake, hopefully after many hours of sleep—to find me gone. Then she’d likely sweat it for the whole morning, wondering if it was going to be awkward to come in to work. Maybe not coming in at all.

My gut twisted at that.

But, hell, if she decided not to show, I knew where to find her. I could track her down, tell her I was being a fucking idiot, and that I wanted to give this thing between us a chance.

Chance for what, I honestly didn’t know.

All I did know was that I liked what we had going on. And I wasn’t ready to let it go yet.

Even with that plan in play, though, I barely got any sleep myself. Then, deciding it was useless to keep trying, I got myself showered and dressed and dragged my ass in to work.

Where I drank too much coffee and kept checking to see if Kick had shown up yet. When she finally did, it was one minute before her shift started, and there was already a line around the block. Everyone wanted to order their meat for the holidays coming up. So it was impossible to try to catch her alone to talk to her.

That didn’t mean I couldn’t look at her, though.

And she looked better.

Sleep had done wonders for the dark circles and bags under her eyes. Her eyes were brighter. Even her skin looked more glowing. Though, whether that was sleep or orgasms was anyone’s guess.

“Kick,” I called after the worst of the rush had finally slowed down. “Can I see you for a minute?” I asked.

That, of course, got a chorus of Ooohs and Uh-ohs from her coworkers as she gave me a tight nod before following me silently back into my office.

“Look, we don’t have to talk about—“ she started, gaze averted.

“Good,” I cut her off, grabbing the back of her neck. “Because I really didn’t have talking in mind.” Then my lips were on hers.

Fine, I had.

But then there she was.

And all my thoughts flew out of my head.

All the tension that had worked its way into Kick’s shoulders on the walk back to my office left her body in a rush as she melted into me.

Her arms went around my neck as I reached behind her to lock the door before turning and walking her back to my desk. I scooted her up on it, my lips never leaving hers.

When my body pressed against her knees, her legs parted for me, inviting me between. As soon as I moved in, her legs wrapped around my hips, holding me against her, and rocking her hips against me.

“You’re gonna have to be quiet,” I murmured against her neck as my hand slid up under her shirt. “Think you can do that?” I asked, even as a little whimper escaped her when my hand slid into the cup of her bra.

Despite the night before, she was still desperate to be touched, arching into my hand as I rolled her nipple, rocking against me restlessly.

We didn’t have long. Everyone would wonder why she’d been called into the office, would get suspicious if she didn’t return quickly enough. I wouldn’t put it above the idiots to stop and listen outside of the door.

So as much as I wanted to spend as much time teasing her as possible, making her come until she was breathless and shaking, I knew we had to make this fast.

I pulled against her legs, then reached down, grabbing the waistbands to her pants and panties, then drawing them down.

My fingers slid up her thigh, then teased up her pussy, already finding her soaked for me.

“Work your pussy for me,” I demanded, reaching to press her fingers between her legs when she hesitated.

I reached into my wallet, pulling it out and finding a condom, then reaching to free my cock, and slide it on.

On the desk, Kick was writhing, her breath going fast and shallow as she worked herself.

I wanted to keep watching, to see her drive herself to that edge, then fall and crash into the orgasm.

But I grabbed her legs, pulling her closer, then thrust inside of her, watching as she arched off the desk, as she pressed her lips together to keep from crying out.

Her hand stayed between her thighs, working herself for me as I lifted her legs and started to fuck her. Not as hard as I wanted, too aware how sound carried if someone was passing by the door.

It wasn’t long before Kick lost the battle with her silence, her moans growing louder. And as much as I wanted to hear them, I reached down, pressing my hand over her mouth as her walls tightened around me, then spasmed hard as she came.

I let myself come with her, reminding myself that I’d get a chance to get her alone and take my time with her again. Just not right then. At work. With my employees and her coworkers just feet away.

We stayed like that for a few minutes, slowing our breathing, waiting for some calm to come to the chaos in our bodies.

But when the moment was over, we moved away in unison. I dealt with the condom as she got her panties and pants back on.

“Do I look disheveled?” she asked, running a hand down her clothes.

“Might wanna fix your hair,” I said, the ponytail having come loose from moving across the desk.

“Better?” she asked after redoing it.

“Yeah.”

I mean, to me, she looked freshly-fucked. All flush skin and bright eyes. But to her coworkers who thought she might have gotten in trouble, I doubt they would see it as that.

“I, ah, better get back out there,” she said, then rushed past me before I could stop her.

Not that I knew what I’d say anyway.

But I guess I had the rest of the day to figure it out.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Kick

Waking up had been disorienting.

The sun was streaming through the windows. Evander was perched near them, bathing in sunbeams. I had no idea what time it was. What day it was.

It wasn’t until I pushed up on my arm and the covers fell away, exposing my nakedness, that it all came rushing back to me.

Rico walking me home, grabbing me, kissing me, teasing me over and over, then holding me afterward.

And I guess I’d fallen asleep.

I wasn’t surprised by that. I’d been bone-tired before, and then all the activities had sapped whatever I’d had left. What surprised me was the fact that I’d clearly slept so soundly. No nightmares. But, I guess, orgasms were a source of stress relief.

I needed it, too.

My brain, for the first time, wasn’t racing. I felt less frazzled and jumpy.

While I should have been using that new clarity to think through the situation with Kyle and my brother, all my mind wanted to do was focus on Rico.

Namely, him leaving.

I mean, I couldn’t exactly blame him. I’d passed out hard enough that I hadn’t even felt him moving out from under me.

He’d been sweet enough to get my covers off of my bed and put them over me before he headed out. That had to count for something.

And, I realized as I wrapped myself up in the blankets and got up, that he’d also fed Evander. Which made sense why the little demon cat hadn’t woken me up with his screaming.

“I still wish he’d stayed, though,” I told Evander as I washed out his bowl and set out some more food and milk. “I bet you do too,” I added, rubbing his head.

He didn’t purr for me like he did for Rico, but he didn’t try to swat at me either. It was progress. He also didn’t want to be let out as much lately. I didn’t know if he was just picking up on my desperate mood or what, but his change of heart was breaking mine as I realized I was going to have to leave him behind eventually.

I set up the coffee maker then made my way down the hall to grab some fresh clothes and make my way into the bathroom.

I could still smell him all over me, lingering woodsmoke and cigars. The last thing I wanted to do was wash him away. But, logically, I knew I needed to. I had to get some separation between what we’d done and what I wanted.

Because there was no universe where I could have some sort of happily-ever-after with Rico. The man I was stealing from, for God’s sake.

I needed to keep my distance. Get my work done. Stop letting him walk me home.

In fact, I was going to the Bronx tonight, come hell or high water. And then every other night until I found my brother.

With that in mind, I showered, scrubbing him away. But even as I slathered my own scent on afterward, I thought of him. Of how he said he liked it. How he’d rested his head between my breasts to breathe me in.

Maybe I needed to get a new lotion.

I finished dressing then grabbed the tips out of my purse, adding it to the pile I was going to give to Kyle.

Tips would be picking up with the holidays coming, the shop running sales, and people flooding the streets to do shopping and needing somewhere to stop for food.

My finger was already looking better. And the shower had made the edge of one of the butterfly closures start to pull up. I figured that if I maybe put one of those weird finger condoms on, I could start doing sandwiches again. Get myself more tip money. Not just for Kyle, though. For myself. For Jake. For our escape. If I wasn’t being followed, I could walk up to the ATM and deposit the cash into my account where it would be safe until I needed it.

I hadn’t been hungry since Kyle showed back up in my life, but I forced myself to choke down some instant oatmeal with my coffee before making my way in to work.

Rico was there so I just… did my best to avoid him. Made myself scarce when he was around, made sure that there was no chance for our eyes to meet.

It was all working.

Until he actually called me into his office.

I couldn’t help but feel like a kid being called to the principal’s office, like I was going to get detention or something.

Or, worse yet, he might fire me.

Then what?

What would happen to Jake?

I mean, I couldn’t exactly do what Kyle wanted in the case of a situation like this. Break into the safe. Clean it out. Then take off.

My mind was still on all those things when he grabbed me and sealed his lips over mine.

All the reservations I had flew right out of the window at the feel of him close to me again.

Just once more, I told myself as he placed me on the desk. I could let myself enjoy this one last time.

So I did just that.

Then I put myself back together as best I could—ignoring the ache in my chest that said one part of me might be too shattered to be whole again—and went back to work.

Rico was called off to some other business later that evening, leaving me free to follow through with my plans to go check out the areas I had on my map. Though I had to admit that there was some small part of me that was disappointed not to have Rico show up when I was leaving, ready to walk me home, to spend more time with me.

Luckily for me, hanging out on the streets in the freezing cold was miserable enough to chase away the other kinds of pain I might have been feeling if I’d been obsessing about the situation with Rico.

I stayed out late enough to be reasonably sure that the two convenience stores weren’t ones that Kyle was frequenting. I’d even flashed a picture around at the employees to double-check.

As much as it would have been nice to find him on the first night looking, I’d known going in that it wasn’t realistic to believe that would happen.

So I made my way home, telling myself that any progress was something to be happy about. Eventually, I would have hit all of the bodegas in that area. I’d see Kyle. I’d follow him at a safe distance. See where he went. Then, when there was no activity there, go snooping around.

A week or two, that was all I needed.

Even if my stomach twisted at the idea of my brother being in that basement for that long.

That amount of time would also make it so that Kyle started to trust me, to believe I was just going along with the plan, that I wasn’t trying to fight back against him.

After all, Kyle was used to me doing that.

Submitting.

Obeying.

It would be natural for him to think I’d fallen into old patterns.

But I wasn’t the woman I’d been when I was living under his thumb. Everything about me screamed to rebel, to fight. To the death, if necessary. I’d done it before—or so I thought—and I could do it again.

Everything about my new life was fighting against who I used to be. Wearing the things I liked, not what Kyle approved of. Putting on makeup. Dyeing my hair an unnatural color. Standing up for myself. Even just with handsy customers at work.

The trick was retaining my new strength while outwardly appearing like my old, more timid, self.

I was two feet inside my apartment when there was a knock.

My heartbeat punched against my ribcage and my stomach turned upside down as I walked silently over to the door to look out of the peephole.

Then there he was.

Not Kyle, like I was dreading.

Rico.

I should have pretended like I wasn’t home, gone into my bedroom and fought the urge to invite him in.

But before I could even finish that thought, let alone find the resolve to carry through with it, my hand was lifting and I was sliding the chain, then the lock, and opening the door.

“Did I catch you before you made another of those god-awful frozen pizzas?” he asked as he stepped into my apartment, seeming comfortable inviting himself inside, being in my world.

“Ah, yeah, I, er, just got in from… running some errands. I haven’t even fed Evander yet,” I added.

As if on cue, something from the counter in the kitchen smashed onto the floor.

“Yeah, he’s got feelings about that,” Rico said, a little smirk toying with his lips as he walked over to greet the cat. “Let’s get you squared away so we can eat,” he told the cat as he went about getting his food and milk. “So,” he continued, looking over at where I was still kind of frozen a foot inside of the door. “Food?”

“I could eat,” I agreed, even if I knew I needed to keep my distance. I didn’t seem to have any defenses when it came to Rico.

“You feeling like going out or staying in?”

Considering Kyle or his cronies might be watching me at any time? “Staying in.”

Rico reached for his phone, finding the food delivery app, and coming over toward me, both of us looking over the options before settling on Italian.

“You’re freezing,” Rico said as his hand grazed mine.

“Yeah, I was, you know… walking around.”

Rico reached out, tugging down the zipper of my jacket, then sliding it off and leading me over to the couch, pulling me down next to him, then tucking one of my hands between his thighs and warming the other with both of his hands.

“Where’d you go?” Rico asked into the silence of my apartment.

“Huh?”

“Errands,” he clarified.

“Oh, the convenience store,” I said.

“You don’t have any bags,” he pointed out, making panic surge.

I tamped it down. “They didn’t have what I was looking for,” I said, again, telling the truth.

“What were you looking for?”

“Oh, I really like dulce de leche ice cream,” I told him. “Not many places carry it.”

I was getting good at telling half-truths.

Considering the predicament I was in, I should have been happy about that. But I really didn’t want to get good at lying. Least of all to Rico, who’d been nothing but good to me.

Rico’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He released my hand to fetch it. I took the opportunity to reach for the remote and start to click through the options to stream before settling on some drama that I’d been meaning to watch but hadn’t gotten around to.

We sat in comfortable silence, bodies close, watching for a bit until Rico demanded I pause it so he could run downstairs to grab the food.

I didn’t stop to think how dangerous it was for Rico to be coming and going from my building until he was out of my apartment. What if Kyle’s guys saw him? What if they got ideas about me stealing more from him? Like those expensive watches or necklaces he was always wearing.

Before I could get myself too wound up, Rico was back with the pizza box and the cardboard box on top, full of meals because neither of us could pick between pizza or pasta. So we’d picked both. But there was also a plastic bag hanging off of his arm.

When I got up to join him in the kitchen to get some plates and utensils, he was reaching into the bag and drawing out six little pints of dulce de leche ice creams.

Completely unbidden, I felt the sting of tears in my eyes at the gesture. Maybe, to some, it wasn’t that big of a deal. But to someone like me, who’d never known a man who gave a shit about her wants or preferences, it felt huge.

“Sounded good,” he said, trying to play it off as he turned to stash them in the freezer.

“Thank you,” I said, head ducked as I tried to blink back the tears, praying that my voice didn’t betray my emotions.

“Just ice cream,” he said, shrugging it off.

But it wasn’t the ice cream.

It was the thought behind it.

The action on that thought.

That meant more than he could understand.

“Okay, I’m starting to regret not getting the baked ziti too,” Rico said as he pulled the little plastic tops off of our meals.

“We can share. I wouldn’t mind some chicken parm,” I said, handing him a knife and my biggest spoon, so he could portion it out.

“I think our eyes were bigger than our stomachs,” I said as we each brought our pastas and slices of pizza over toward the couch.

“I have faith in us,” he said. “Besides, looks like you’ve been skipping meals lately,” he said.

He wasn’t wrong. I’d been too nauseated to eat most of the time. And when I did, I usually only managed a few bites before I tossed the rest.

I didn’t respond to that, though. It was dangerous ground. Instead, I took a big forkful of my pasta and shoved it in my mouth and gave him a closed-mouth smile.

“That’s more like it,” he agreed, reaching for the remote to make the show start playing again.

It was low pressure, just eating food and watching a show, no need to talk about anything. Which would feel tricky since my entire damn life was a lie at that point. And I was worried that, given enough time speaking, my own guilt would eat at me and made me confess to what I was doing to him.

Afterward, we were too stuffed to move for a long time, just binging through the show for another two episodes.

It was as the third was going through its opening credits that he grabbed my ankles, pulling my feet into his lap, and starting to massage them.

I couldn’t help it. A low, long moan escaped me as his thumb pressed into my arch, massaging away an ache that had been with me for so long that I no longer even noticed it.

“That’s a good sound,” he murmured, doing it again.

It should have been relaxing, not exciting, to get a foot rub. But within moments, I felt little tendrils of need wrapping me up in their web.

I pressed my thighs tightly together, trying to ease the growing ache between.

Rico was onto me, though. And his hands moved from my feet to my ankles, up my calves.

When my thighs fell open, inviting more, he turned on the couch, came over me, and crushed down against me as his lips claimed mine.

I wrapped him up with my arms and legs, holding onto him, writhing against him as the minutes passed and both our needs became too strong to deny.

Rico’s face went into my neck, his breath warm against my skin as I rocked my hips against his hardness.

“Never fucking wanted someone this much,” he murmured, making my heart squeeze in my chest.

My hands slipped down, sneaking under his shirt, moving up the bare skin of his back, then down, sinking into his ass, and pulling him more firmly against me.

“Me either,” I admitted, my teeth nipping his earlobe, making that little rumble move through him, vibrating into me.

Rico sucked in a deep breath, then exhaled hard as he grabbed me, pulling me onto his lap. He waited for me to grab him again before he got to his feet, walking us through my apartment.

He paused halfway down the hallway, slamming me back against the wall, stealing my lips, grinding his cock against me.

Then he was moving again, taking us into my bedroom and kicking the door closed behind us.

We tumbled onto the bed, his weight crushing me into the mattress for a long moment before I threw my weight to roll over on top of him.

Rico sat up, reaching to grab my shirt and whipping it off, tossing it to the side.

“Wanted to take my time with you earlier,” he said, lips meeting the bare skin of my clavicle. “Wanted to hear you fucking screaming my name as I fucked you,” he added, hands sinking into my ass, dragging me against his length until a long, low moan escaped me.

My head fell back and his lips moved there, teasing over my pulse as his hands moved around my back to work the clasps of my bra free. He pulled it off, then grabbed me at my sides, forcing me up so he could lean forward and suck one of my nipples into his mouth.

Not having to muffle myself, I let the moan—loud and long—escape me. Rico’s teeth nipped the tightened point in approval, making my sex clench hard.

Then he was moving across my chest, continuing to lick, suck, and bite until I couldn’t take it any more. I dropped my hips back down on his lap, feeling his hardness press against me.

A sexy little laugh escaped Rico as his hands grabbed my ass and dragged me against his length. “So needy for my cock,” he murmured.

My whimper was my agreement as I continued to move against him.

But then he whipped me over onto my back, knelt, and pressed my legs into my chest so he could pull off my pants and panties.

He barely spared the time to toss them to the floor before he was spreading me, and lowering down between my legs, his tongue on me.

His lips sucked, his tongue traced, and his fingers slipped inside of me.

The build up was fast but intense as my hands slapped down on the back of his neck, holding him against me as he drove me up toward an orgasm that had my whole body tensing and my thighs clenching at the sides of his head.

He grabbed my knees, pulling my legs apart, then turned to press a kiss to my inner thigh as a sexy, rumbling laugh escaped him.

I was desperate for more of him then, going up onto my knees with him, my hands working down his buttons, then pulling off his shirt.

My hands slid over his warm skin, loving the way his muscles tensed with my touch as they moved down his stomach to undo his button and zipper, then pulled his pants down.

Rico scooted back, stepping onto the floor at the foot of the bed. I followed to sit off the edge, reaching out to push down his pants, then go for his boxer briefs until he was as bare as me.

My hand reached out, stroking down his length as I ducked my head and took him in my mouth.

His hands grabbed the back of my head, holding onto me as I started to suck him, then guiding me, making me take him faster, deeper. His breathing went ragged; little curses escaped him as his taste filled my mouth.

My own desire reached a fever pitch, making me press my thighs together to try to ease the growing ache between.

Then Rico was suddenly pulling me back.

He leaned down, grabbing the backs of my knees and flipping me back on the mattress.

I landed with a small giggle as he grabbed a condom with one hand as he stroked himself with the other, his hungry gaze on me the whole time.

When he was done protecting us, I pulled my legs up at an angle, then spread them for him.

That rumbling sound moved through him as he moved toward me, as he came over me.

He slid inside of me slowly, making me aware of each thick inch as he claimed me.

His lips were on mine as he started to move inside of me, slow and deep.

It was all just so… intimate. I felt pulled open, laid bare in a way I wasn’t sure I’d ever been before.

It was all just… too much.

I threw my weight, rolling him under me and moving to sit up, creating a distance some part of me so desperately needed right then as I started to ride him.

Up and through an orgasm that had me crying out as a shiver racked my whole body.

“Fuck,” Rico growled, rolling us again, then going back on his knees, pulling my legs up to his shoulders, and fucking me.

Hard.

Fast.

Like I needed.

He pushed me through another orgasm before coming with me.

He sat back on his calves afterward, his head tilted back as he tried to slow his breathing.

I felt breathless looking at how gorgeous he was right then.

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to my leg, then sliding away from me.

Did I sit up to watch his firm ass as he walked away? Yes, yes, I did.

It took him a while to come back, and I realized why when he walked in carrying a pint of ice cream and two spoons.

“Figure we worked off enough of dinner to get some dessert now.”

And it was just the most perfect night ever.

Eventually, we curled up on the bed, me resting with my head right over his heart, his hand draped casually around my hip.

His lips pressed into the top of my head.

“I’m gonna stay for a while,” he told me as I started to drift off to sleep. “But I’m gonna go home before morning. Just didn’t want you to wake up alone and think the worst,” he said.

“Okay,” I sighed.

And that was the last thing I knew that night.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Kick

The next two weeks were similar.

I went to work.

Sometimes I saw Rico, sometimes not.

Which, I reminded myself frequently, was for the best. Because the guilt was already eating me up. Having to face him when I had stolen money stashed in my pants or sweater or purse would have been just too much.

I would leave work and head to the Bronx, doing some more staking out of convenience stores.

Then I would get home and hope Rico would show up.

Some nights he did and always with food.

But some nights he didn’t.

And I couldn’t shake the dark cloud that clung to me those times. Even if I knew I was getting too close to him, that I was risking everything. But most of all, my heart.

Though, if I were being honest, it was too late.

It was already his.

More so than my heart had ever belonged to anyone.

Each time I thought of that, I couldn’t stop the tears from flooding my eyes. I was emotional every moment of the day. Crying in the bathroom at work. Crying in the cold and dark as I waited to see if I could find Kyle coming out of a bodega. In the shower in the morning. On the way home from dropping off the money to Kyle after demanding to see proof of my brother being okay.

I was both the happiest and saddest I’d ever been.

Happiest only in the stolen moments when I was in Rico’s arms. Miserable in every other moment.

It all seemed so completely and utterly hopeless.

Until, on one frigid night, the wind whipping lazy, wet snow flurries around, freezing me all the more, it finally happened.

I saw Kyle.

Coming out not of a bodega, but a Chinese food place.

Adrenaline surged as I pulled my jacket hood up over my knitted beanie, casting my whole head in shadow.

Then I started walking, keeping a safe distance as I followed Kyle as he hunched forward against the wind.

And then there it was.

The building he was living in. Possibly the building he was keeping my brother in.

As he got to the door, I slunk back, not wanting him to turn and see me, knowing how capable of violence he was, how willing he would be to grab me. Or, worse yet, just kill Jake, cut his losses, and run.

Alarm bells went off in my mind as he disappeared inside the building, thinking that maybe this was my chance. Maybe I should call the police, tell them that my brother had been kidnapped, that he was being kept in the basement.

That would solve… everything.

Except, of course, lying to and stealing from Rico.

I could sit him down and explain, though. Tell him I didn’t see any way out, that I would work for free to pay him back. Beg for his mercy. Tell him how sorry I was, how much this had been killing me.

He was a good man.

He would forgive me.

But something would always be fractured. Nothing would ever be the same between us.

It would break me to lose him. And I would lose him. But it was better than living like this forever.

The only thing stopping me from reaching for my phone with my frozen fingers and calling the police right then, though, was not having any proof.

What good would I do if I called the cops to report the kidnapping and torture of someone… who might not even be in the building?

If Jake wasn’t in the basement, then all I would accomplish was pissing off Kyle. Who would, almost certainly, take out his anger on my brother.

I needed to get closer. I needed to see in the basement. Or get in there myself without being seen. See with my own two eyes. Then call.

Decision made, I waited a few minutes, figuring by the size of that bag of Chinese food that Kyle would be sharing it with his friends. So when I was sure that they were all likely diving into their food, I moved toward the building.

There was a basement with small, barred windows.

But they were so covered in decades of dust on the inside and grime from the city streets that even when I flashed my phone flashlight in them, I couldn’t see anything inside.

“Damnit,” I grumbled, tucking my phone away and walking away so it didn’t look suspicious that I was hanging around.

Then I hid out, waiting for someone to be making their way up the steps. When I finally did, I rushed up behind him.

He startled, sensing me behind him.

“Oh, my God,” I said, giving him a frazzled smile. “It’s freezing out here, right?” I asked as he pulled the door open.

“Yeah. Heard we’re gonna get an inch or two,” he said.

“Really? I don’t know whether to be happy about that or not,” I said as we moved into the lobby in unison.

“Coming?” he asked, going right for the elevator.

“Not yet,” I said, waving over toward the mailboxes. “Gotta get my mail,” I said.

He nodded and let the doors close.

I waited until he went up, then hit the down button. I rushed around the corner of the wall, out of sight, as I waited for it. On the off-chance that Kyle or one of his men would come out, I didn’t want to be just standing there like an idiot.

It dinged, and I ran around to get inside. I was about to hit the button for the basement before I realized how stupid I was being.

I rushed back out of the elevator car and ran around toward the mailboxes, taking slow, deep breaths, trying to keep myself calm.

I needed to use the stairs, not the elevator that would announce my arrival. Then open to reveal me to whoever might be down in the basement.

The stairs would allow me to go slow, to carefully peek out once I got down there. To play it safe and not get caught.

I hoped.

I moved into the stairwell, trying to ignore the flip-flopping of my stomach at being alone in a secluded place at night. With only a flickering overhead light to brighten my descent.

I forced myself to take slow, deep breaths as I went down, taking careful steps to stay as quiet as possible.

It took forever, yet was far too quick, to get to the door at the bottom.

I took a moment there, closing my eyes, trying to stop the way my whole body felt like it was trembling from the inside out. It was no use, though. I wasn’t going to stop panicking until I saw what I needed to see, then got the hell out of there.

I could go somewhere safe and call. Wait for the police there. Let them do their job. Take Kyle away. For good.

Then Jake and I could pick up the shambles of our lives.

With one more deep breath, I carefully put pressure on the bar of the door, wincing as it made that little clicking noise.

I paused, half certain someone was going to come rushing toward me with a gun, was going to strap me to a chair beside my brother and beat me. Or worse.

But a moment passed, two.

No one came.

I tiptoed forward, carefully closing the door behind me so it didn’t slam.

The basement reeked of dust and damp. There was a distinct shrieking sound I knew to be rats fighting.

Great.

Bad guys and rats to contend with.

It was pitch black in the basement, so I took small, shuffling steps toward the wall, pressing my hand against the cinderblocks to orient myself as I made myself keep moving forward, my eyes adjusting little by little to the low light.

A random stack of boxes surprised me, making me almost plow right into them, sending them crashing to the floor.

As it was, I sucked in a breath, but managed to keep myself from making any other sound as I moved around the boxes and kept moving around the cavernous space.

It felt like hours passed. But it was likely less than ten minutes to move around the whole perimeter.

My belly bottomed out, though, as I realized that aside from the rats that were either fighting or fucking, given the sounds they were making, and likely a million spiders whose webs were probably covering me, this basement was unoccupied.

There was no chair with my brother strapped to it.

No bad guys waiting to grab me.

Just… nothing.

A little whimper escaped me as I made my way back to the door.

I was so hopeful that this was it, that it was all going to end tonight. I hadn’t really prepared myself for the other possibility. That Kyle lived here, but stashed my brother somewhere else.

The more I thought about it as I moved into the stairwell and dropped down on one of the steps, cradling my head in my hands, the more that made sense.

He couldn’t exactly keep a guy chained to a chair, likely thrashing around, maybe screaming when he took the duct tape off to feed him, in the basement of an apartment building where others might hear him.

Jake was likely hidden somewhere else.

An abandoned building, most likely.

The burn of tears threatened but I squeezed my eyes shut, refusing to give in to them.

It wasn’t over.

This was still a huge lead.

I could still follow Kyle or his men from this apartment building to wherever they were holding Jake.

Then I could still follow through with the plan.

Call the police. Get my brother back. Come clean to Rico. Start over again. No fear of Kyle. No more lies.

Determination renewed, I made my way back up the steps. My footsteps felt heavier than ever, though. Hell, my soul felt heavier as I made my way out of the stairwell.

I checked around, then made a mad dash to the front door and out of the building.

I was about to head back to the subway, to go home, take a hot shower to chase off the chill, get something to eat, when the front door of the apartment building flew open.

I panicked, thinking it was Kyle, that I was found out.

I ducked into the coffee shop next door and watched, my heart in a vice.

But it wasn’t Kyle.

Or that other guy from my apartment.

No.

No.

It was Jake.

Jake was walking out of the building.

No handcuffs, no tape, no bruises, no blood.

No nothing.

“No,” I gasped, falling deeper into the shop as he moved to the end of the sidewalk, waiting for a few cars to pass before jogging casually across the street.

No no no no no.

This… this couldn’t be happening.

How was Jake walking around freely? Out of the building where Kyle was clearly living?

The answer came to me as soon as the question formed, though.

My brother had never been a prisoner.

He hadn’t been chained to a chair and tortured by my ex.

He was working with him.

He was scheming against me.

“Ah, tables are for customers only,” a voice called.

I hadn’t even been aware of dropping down into a seat. It wasn’t surprising, though. I felt like my legs weren’t working. I felt like the world had just fallen out from under me.

All of these weeks that I’d been sick with worry, not sleeping, not eating, half-crazed with my fear and worry about Kyle having my brother… and he was in on it.

“Ma’am?”

“Ah, large coffee, please,” I said, forcing myself to stand, to walk over to the counter, handing over some of my stolen cash.

Cash I’d stolen from Rico.

Pain stabbed at my heart.

I’d been fucking over Rico—good, kind, Rico—for weeks because I thought it was my only choice. That if Rico understood, he would have empathy for my situation.

Only to find out that I had no good reason at all.

A small sob escaped me, making the barista’s head pop up, looking over at me with a mix of confusion and concern.

I couldn’t blame her.

I probably looked a little crazed right then.

I certainly felt crazed.

My mind was shooting off in a million directions.

I was sure I was pale, my eyes huge, my aura as frantic as my heartbeat was against my ribcage.

“Here you go,” she called, passing me the coffee with a look that I swear screamed Now please leave.

I felt empathy for her, having been that girl behind a counter late at night with some crazy person sharing your space.

So I took my coffee and made my way outside.

After a quick glance around to make sure Kyle and Jake were nowhere to be seen, I walked on numb legs back toward the subway.

I handed off my coffee to an unhoused man huddled in a jacket and small pile of blankets, then dropped down into an empty seat.

My phone popped out of the pocket and I reached for it, swiping to unlock it out of habit.

There was a little envelope in my top notification bar.

An email.

Happy to do anything other than fall deeper into a hole about the clusterfuck of a situation I was in, I swiped over to my inbox.

There, right at the top, was an email from a familiar address.

BobbyxBoobies.

Because, you know, he was an adult and everything.

The preview text had my pulse speeding up again, had a sweat breaking out across my skin despite the cold.

You wanted me to email you if I saw Jake.

With a shaky breath, I opened the email, finding a long-winded message from Bobby telling me that he’d seen Jake earlier, that he’d stopped by to pay his overdue rent, that he’d picked up some of his stuff and said he was working on a new ‘business venture’ and would be out of touch for a bit.

Me.

I was the new business venture.

A pawn for him and Kyle. Again.

Always, always their fool.

I didn’t realize a growl had actually escaped me until the woman seated across from me wrapped an arm protectively around her son who was distracted by her cell phone in his hands.

I closed out my inbox then turned off my phone, spending the rest of the ride staring out the window, seeing nothing, so overwhelmed with conflicting emotions that I started to go blessedly numb.

By the time I made it back to my apartment and went through the motions of feeding Evander, I had battled back the worst of the betrayal.

In its wake was just pure, undiluted, justified rage.

It wasn’t bad enough that those two men had conspired against me, had tricked me, had manipulated me in the worst way possible. But they’d taken something from me that I’d never thought I would ever find.

They’d taken Rico from me.

And any chance we could have at happiness.

That was the worst part.

Suddenly desperate to set the record straight, to come clean, I rushed into my bedroom, stripping out of my wet pants and slipping on a fresh pair before making my way back into the living room.

I rushed around, grabbing what was left of the money that I’d taken from Rico but hadn’t handed over to Kyle—and, apparently, Jake—yet, and counted it up before stashing it in my purse.

I was going to go find Rico.

I was going to tell him what happened.

I’d give him the money I’d stolen.

I’d clean out my account and give him that as well.

I’d swear to pay the rest of it back. Every single penny. Even the ten grand he’d given me purely out of the goodness of his heart.

I’d apologize.

I’d make this right, damnit.

It was the only thing left to do.

I didn’t have any delusions that it could somehow erase the betrayal, that he could actually forgive me for what I’d done. Not just stealing from him. I did think he had enough good in him to understand the situation I was in and forgive that.

But lying to him.

But letting him hold me and kiss me and make love to me while I was keeping this awful secret from him, while I was screwing him over behind his back.

He couldn’t forgive that.

I couldn’t expect him to.

But that didn’t mean I didn’t owe it to him to confess and make a plan to pay him back.

Decision made, I slipped into my shoes and jacket.

It didn’t matter that I didn’t even know where he was at this time of night.

I would find him, damnit.

I could start at the meat shop in case he was there after hours doing some work.

“I’ll be back, buddy. I’m going to go make this right,” I told Evander. “But you might never get to see Rico again after this,” I added. I swear he looked at me like he understood. And that he would never forgive me for fucking up his life as well.

I’d let down everyone down.

But I would have to deal with Evander later.

I had to find Rico now.

I made my way to the door.

I pulled it open.

Only to find Rico standing there.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going, babe?” he asked, his voice tight.

He knew.

Oh, God, he knew.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Rico

I could look past one week where the books weren’t right. But the second week of a few grand missing had alarms going off in my mind.

“What’s going on?” Bass asked as he walked into the office at the meat shop after hours.

“I think I got a problem,” I admitted as he dropped into the seat across from the desk.

“What kind of problem?” he asked, leaning back.

“A problem where my books aren’t balancing right,” I told him.

“How imbalanced are they?” he asked, leaning forward.

“Couple grand last week and this week.”

“You’re sure it’s the books, not the calculator?”

“You got something to say?” I asked, tone going cold.

“Look, I’m happy to see you distracted. Kick’s been good for you. But if your head isn’t completely on the books when you’re working on them, you could fuck up the math.”

“Been counting since I was five. Been balancing books since I was in my teens. I didn’t fuck this up twice in a row,” I said, pushing the books across the desk to him. “But go over ‘em yourself. Let me know if I fucked something up. Because if I didn’t, I have a big fucking problem.”

I sat there waiting as Bass went over the books line by line. Starting at the most recent week, then working backward.

He sucked in a deep breath, looking up at me.

“You’ve never misplaced a dollar before,” he concluded. “Until the past two weeks. It looks like seven grand total.”

“Fuck,” I sighed, leaning back in my chair.

“No one is new, right?” he asked, closing the notebooks and passing them back to me.

“No.”

“Makes no sense. Why would someone be here for months, or longer, never stealing a dime, only to turn around and start taking thousands?”

“That’s what I want to know,” I agreed.

“Timing-wise, this started not long after the robbery, right?”

“Right.”

“Maybe someone found out and thought it was a sign of weakness?” Bastian suggested. “Decided to take advantage of the situation?”

“If that’s the case, I need to find the fuck and make him see that I’m not someone who can be taken advantage of.”

To that, Bass nodded. “How well do you know everyone who works here?”

“I dunno, man. Know Ricky better than anyone. Know some basic facts about everyone else. But they’re just… employees. Not part of the family. I didn’t do background checks on any of ‘em.”

“Who has access to the register?”

“Everyone,” I admitted, suddenly seeing what a flaw that was now. “There’s only one. And when shit is busy, they all share it.”

“Do they all cash out the drawer?”

“Usually Ricky. But the cash-out is just taking out the excess, putting it in a sealed bag with the receipts, and putting them in the drop box right outside of the office. Then I deal with it from there.”

“But that’s a great time to skim some cash,” Bass said.

“I hope it’s not Ricky,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I trust him.”

“Could he be pissed off about getting his face bashed in?”

“Anything is possible. I paid him to stay home. Gave him a stack of cash as an apology. He seems… normal, though,” I added. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Could just be a good liar.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, even if I was still hoping it wasn’t him. The man practically ran the shop. Having to find someone else to step into his shoes would be a nightmare. Worse than that, he had a loving wife and kids. I couldn’t imagine putting an end to him the way I would if it was anyone else fucking me over.

“Alright, look. How about I look into this? Finished my job with Cinna and Dav. Got nothing on my plate right now. I can review security footage, see if I can catch who is doing it in the act.”

“Gonna be a lot of footage,” I warned. “Got cameras everywhere.”

“Eh, I don’t mind. Better me than you. Sure you’d rather be spending your free time with Kick.”

He wasn’t wrong.

The more I spent time with her, the more I wanted to spend time with her. It was strange and new. But I don’t know… unexpectedly comforting.

I held myself back on occasion, not letting myself go over to her place every single night. But, fuck, the nights when I didn’t, it took everything I had not to show up.

The crazy thing was, it wasn’t just the sex. It was the moments after, just holding her, just feeling the way her fingers traced absentmindedly over my skin, how her body went lax as she drifted off to sleep.

It was the moments before things made their way to the bedroom. Sharing food, watching shows, talking about our pasts. We had crummy childhoods in common. While my parents were, you know, present—abusive, but present—her father was in and out of their lives, leaving their mom to work, pay bills, and raise her kids herself. Which, it seemed, turned her mean and bitter.

It sounded like Kick got out of there as soon as she could and cut all ties with her mom.

Having needed to cut my own parents off, I understood what it was like to be without a family.

She didn’t talk much about her brother. And when she did, she looked visibly upset, so I decided not to push.

She’d told me once that she had no one.

It seemed that was true.

That part, I couldn’t relate to.

I had my found family and a few blood relatives like Bass who hadn’t turned out to be like our parents. If I needed help, I had a dozen or more places to go to find it.

I couldn’t imagine being and feeling completely alone. To have no one to lean on.

And, suddenly, I found I wanted to be that person for her. To share my people with her. I was pretty sure it was too early to say shit like that. Though, who the fuck knew? I had no idea what the hell I was doing.

“I appreciate it, man,” I said as I slid open one of my desk drawers, producing my laptop and passing it to Bass. I gave him my passcodes to everything, then trusted him to figure this shit out for me.

While I spent more time with Kick.

Though, when I showed up at her place, she didn’t answer the door. For someone who claimed she was a homebody, she was out a lot late at night.

The third time it happened, I felt jealousy rear its ugly head, worried she was off with some other guy. But when she came in, cheeks flushed red from the cold, her eyes worried, I figured that it was impossible she’d been with a guy. If how she was after time with me was anything to go by, that is.

“You’re far away,” I said when we were in bed together later, having felt her drifting away from me minute by minute.

“Hm? No. I was just thinking about, you know, the holidays,” she said, but the lie wasn’t exactly convincing.

“What about them?”

“What do you do?” she asked, sliding her leg across my hips.

“Depends on the year. Back before the guys started settling down, we usually just hung out together. Had some drinks, some food. Not traditional holiday shit. Don’t think any of us ever even put up a tree,” I added. “Now, though, there’s usually someone doing something.

“Last year, I went to Cinna and Dav’s place for Thanksgiving. Neither of ‘em cook, but they had a full traditional Thanksgiving meal delivered.”

“They’re the two with the adopted kids, right?”

“Yeah. Teenagers.” One had been the kid in Cinna’s old apartment building who needed out of his shitty home life. The other was homeless and living on the street.

None of us ever imagined Cinna having kids. But I guess there was something different about raising teens than babies, and she seemed to speak their language. They were all an unexpected family that just… clicked.

“What about Christmas?” she asked, fingers tracing over my chest, writing things, but I couldn’t quite make out what.

“Spent the morning alone. Everyone had shit to do with their loved ones. But late that night, Renzo and Lore had a little holiday party. Most of us went there. Had some good times. Dunno if that’s gonna continue, though, once they start having kids.”

“Do you want them?”

“Do I want what?” I asked, my fingers sliding up her back to sift through her hair.

“Kids,” she clarified.

“I dunno how much thought I’ve given it, if I’m being honest. Haven’t really even been around a lot of kids. But I dunno. I could maybe see it. You?”

“I didn’t want them in, like, my past circumstances,” she said, dangerously close to actually telling me what her old life was like, what she was clearly running from by coming to Brooklyn after a lifetime in the Bronx. “I mean, it’s not like my life is stable now either,” she added, voice going a little thick.

Was she going to cry?

But before I could suss that shit out, she was straightening. “I need ice cream!” she declared, putting a little too much cheer in her voice, making the effect fall flat. But before I could say anything, she was rushing out of the room to get the ice cream.

Then the moment was gone.

And I couldn’t ask.

That had been happening a lot.

The conversation would start to go somewhere deep. She would start to get emotional. Then she would quickly change topics, or find some reason to walk away from me until she had herself together again.

I wanted to know what it was all about.

But I also had no idea how to ask her, to bring it out without pressuring her.

What can I say? I was used to straight-talkers. To people who didn’t hold back. And if someone was being secretive for some reason, one of us would force it out of them.

It didn’t seem right to try that with Kick.

So until I could figure out how to coax the information out of her, I was going to have to learn to be okay with being in the dark.

But as the days passed, as feelings really started to take root and grow, that shit got harder and harder.

Sometimes—especially at work—I would find her with a faraway look, or a worried one. And it took everything I had not to grab her, drag her into the back, and force her to tell me what was making her look so upset.

I couldn’t, of course.

Hell, half the time, I had to stay in my office and away from her because I was pretty sure there was no way I could be around her without making it obvious to everyone that we were involved.

I mean, no, the company didn’t have some sort of anti-fraternization policy or anything. Mostly due to the fact that it was just a bunch of guys working there. But I couldn’t imagine it would look good to the others to know the boss was fucking their coworker. They would start to question things like her salary, why she got off certain days, if she was getting some sort of preferential treatment.

Just a bunch of headaches I didn’t need.

At least not yet.

Eventually, if shit kept going the way it was with Kick, there wouldn’t be hiding it anymore. I was fine with that. When or if the time came. It wasn’t like any of my employees were gonna get too mouthy about the situation, knowing their boss was a fucking mafia capo.

As week two slowly made its way toward week three, though, there was a knock at my office door, pulling me out of thoughts of trying to convince Kick to maybe spend the holidays at my place. I figured I could order in. Then the three of us, Bass included, could have a nice little meal.

But I hadn’t quite figured out how to phrase the invite yet. Let alone plan to get a tree, lights, ornaments, all the shit you needed to host a holiday.

“Yeah?” I called, turning to see Bastian moving into the office.

He was tense.

His spine was straight, his jaw ticking, and his eyes hard.

He had the laptop in his arm as he stepped inside the room.

I looked past him, seeing the clock on the wall. Somehow, the store had closed down around me without me even noticing. I really should have been on my way to Kick’s place.

“What is it?” I asked as he moved to the other side of the desk, taking a dramatically deep breath.

“It’s Kick,” he said.

“What is? She alright? Didn’t she leave again? Where is she?” I asked, already starting to get out of my seat.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Everyone is gone. The place is locked down,” he told me. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What the fuck are you talking about then?” I asked, feeling the frantic punch of my heart against my ribs at the idea of something happening to her.

“It’s Kick, Rico,” he said, voice careful, eyes looking, I dunno, regretful.

“What’s Kick?”

“It’s Kick who has been skimming from the register,” he said.

I swear it felt like the fucking floor fell out from under me. I dropped back down into my seat, already shaking my head at him.

“No. No fucking way.”

“I wish it wasn’t,” Bass said, carefully placing the laptop down in front of me. “But it is. Trust me, I checked and double-checked and triple-checked, wanting to find anyone else acting sketchy. But she wasn’t just acting sketchy—jumpy, looking over her shoulder, all the typical shit—you can actually see it happening,” he told me as he opened the laptop and brought up the windows he had open.

There weren’t just two of them.

There were half a dozen frozen videos.

My stomach clenched hard as Bass reached around the laptop to click play on the top video.

There was Kick, doing a cash transaction for a customer.

Honestly, I would have missed it if I wasn’t looking for it.

As she counted out change, her hand slipped over toward the large bills, curling several into her palm, then carefully tucking it into her front pocket before grabbing the coins for the customer, closing the drawer, and moving out of the frame to give the customer their change.

“She wasn’t always so smooth about it,” Bastian told me, toggling over toward another frozen video and pressing play.

There was Kick another day, her hair pulled back in a braid instead of her usual ponytail.

She wasn’t getting change for a customer. She was pulling the cash drawer out of the register to, I assume, bag up the extra money and put it in the cash drop.

She placed it down next to the register, though, on a small piece of counter near the wall, her body blocking it from view.

But she paused, looking over both of her shoulders.

Then she was shoving something into her pocket before taking the drawer to the back to drop the remaining money.

No.

No, this couldn’t be happening.

Seeming to sense my inability to accept the reality right in front of my face, Bass clicked another video.

The most damning of them all.

Not because she was stealing more money or anything, but because I remembered that day. The one where I’d run into her. Where she’d been oddly clutching her sweater to her chest, then shoved it into her locker in a ball.

This time, though, I got to see the moments leading up to that.

Why she was so jumpy.

Why she was clutching the sweater.

Because as she skimmed the money out of the register, something startled her, making her jolt and drop the cash.

Seeming paranoid about the noise, and maybe being caught, she threw her sweater over it on the floor, then scooped the cash up into the sweater, held it to her chest, and made a mad dash toward the back.

As much as I didn’t want to believe it, there was no denying something that was right in front of my face like this.

Suddenly, I was going back over every haunted look, every time she tried to change the subject, when she seemed jumpy or guarded.

It wasn’t because she was hiding her past from me.

It was because she was fucking stealing from me.

My heartbeat was thumping hard and bile was creeping up my throat.

No, this wasn’t the first time I’d been betrayed. But, fuck, this cut deeper. This was personal.

I was fucking falling for this woman.

And she was, what, scheming behind my back? Laughing at my gullibility?

I couldn’t tell which was stronger right then. The burning in my gut of betrayal. Or the crushing feeling in my chest that seemed to make it hard to breathe.

“When?” I growled.

“What?”

“When did it start? How long has she been stealing from me?”

“This is the first one,” Bastian said, clicking to a timestamped video.

“You’re sure?”

“Went back to the beginning of her employment, man. She’s never so much as skimmed a quarter before. Actually, once saw her drop a quarter under the counter. When she couldn’t get it out, she went and got another quarter out of her purse to replace it. This shit just started when you saw the anomalies in the books.”

Why, though?

Why just the two and a half weeks?

What had changed?

The robbery?

When we started getting less than professional?

No.

That shit didn’t make any sense.

There had to be something else going on. Something she was hiding. Something that was making her jumpy and haunted-looking.

I didn’t know what it was.

But I was sure as fuck about to find out.

“Don’t tell anyone about this,” I demanded, slamming the laptop. “Not yet,” I added, knowing I never kept shit from Renzo for any length of time. That wasn’t how being in the family worked. We didn’t get the luxury of secrets from the boss.

“Where are you going?” Bastian asked.

“To get answers.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Kick

Oh, God.

I couldn’t do this.

Not when my entire freaking world had just exploded around me.

I needed time to think about what I was going to say to him, to plan, to…

It was useless thinking about what I needed right then, though, with Rico standing there, tension holding his shoulders back and making a muscle tick in his jaw. With pure betrayal in his eyes.

I stumbled back a step, alarm bells in my mind going off, reminding me how dangerous an animal a man could be when he was angry. And even from several feet away, I could feel the sizzle of Rico’s rage.

“Seems like we need to have a talk,” Rico said, moving inside of the apartment and closing the door behind him.

A choked sound escaped me as I scurried back another few feet, instincts telling me to put as much space between us as possible.

He advanced another step, and I rushed to put the couch between us, adrenaline burning through my veins, making me feel racy and hot.

“Christ,” Rico said, straightening as he watched me, seeing something, but I couldn’t tell what. “I’m not going to hurt you, Kick,” he said, brows drawing together.

“I’ve been stealing from you,” I reminded him. I’d been hurt for far less in the past.

“Still ain’t gonna hurt you,” he said, spreading his hands out in an appeasing gesture. “I don’t put my hands on women,” he added.

I wanted to believe him. He’d never been anything but gentle with me. You know, save for times when we both wanted something harder.

But I knew better than anyone that men’s evil could be lying in wait, just looking for the right opportunity to use it against you.

“Kick,” he tried again, voice softer. But I couldn’t trust that his rage and betrayal had just dissolved like that. “What the fuck is going on?” he asked, his voice still gentle.

“I’m so sorry.” The words sobbed out of me. My eyes flooded at the same time, making him blurry until I blinked the tears out, feeling them stream down my cheeks and drop off of my jaw. “I didn’t want to do it!” I added on a loud, pathetic sniffle.

“Okay,” Rico agreed, nodding as he watched me. “Okay. I see that,” he said. “You need to talk to me.”

He was being too nice.

Too understanding.

After all I’d done was lie to and betray him.

Weeks worth of misery bubbled up and boiled over, drowning me in it.

A loud sob escaped me as I dropped down onto my knees, pressing my face against the arm of the couch, and just… purging it all.

The shock, the confusion, the stress, fear, and—worst of all—the guilt. God, the guilt. I’d been drowning in it. Day and night. Knowing what I was doing to the man whose arms I slept in, whose lips I kissed, whose hands now held my heart. Even if, after all this, all he would want to do was throw it away.

“Christ,” Rico said, sounding taken aback.

I couldn’t blame him. I was a mess right then. Loud sobs that racked my body escaped me, uncontrollable, unstoppable.

It all just needed out.

I’d been holding it all in for too long.

And after finding out about Jake’s betrayal, Rico finding out about my own was just… too much.

“Kick, come on,” Rico tried, sounding closer, but I refused to look up. “Come on. Nothing can be that bad,” he said.

But it could.

It was.

“You’re gonna make yourself… sick or something,” he said, sounding horrified by my display.

I couldn’t blame him. Rico was a good man. But he wasn’t exactly the softest man. I couldn’t imagine he was used to, let alone good with, crying women. And I wasn’t just crying. I was hysterical.

“Alright, come on,” he said. Then he was reaching for me, grabbing me under the arms and pulling me to my feet. “Come on. It’s gonna be fine,” he insisted as he pulled me with him onto the couch, pulling me against him, wrapping his arms around me.

Which only made me cry harder.

It seemed like it was never going to end.

Slowly but surely, I ran out of tears to cry. Leaving me just sniffling pathetically.

Rico bent forward, grabbing a handful of take-away napkins and handing them to me.

I blew my nose then slowly untangled from him, embarrassment mingling with everything else.

“Okay. Now that that’s out,” he said, and his casual tone almost made me want to laugh. “You ready to talk about it?”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Gotta pick somewhere.”

“I killed my ex,” I blurted out, turning to watch his reaction. I expected shock, disbelief, even terror.

I got none of that.

Instead, he just gave me a little nod.

“Yeah? Bet he had it coming.”

My brows knitted at his reaction, but I had to keep going. I owed him the truth.

“He was abusive,” I admitted. “I kept trying to leave. But he just… it never worked. Then, it did. For a while. Until he found me at work. Cornered me in the alley when I was taking out the trash. And I just… lost it,” I told him.

“Good. Hope it hurt,” Rico said.

“That was why I fled Brooklyn. I thought the cops might be coming for me. But then… they never did. I didn’t realize until a few weeks ago that they didn’t because I didn’t kill him.”

“He tracked you down?”

“Yeah.”

“How?”

“That’s the complicated part, I guess.”

“I got time.”

“The night of the robbery…”

“Yeah?”

“When the one guy… had me in your office, another guy came in to pull him away, telling him that I’d hit some silent alarm and the cops were coming.”

“Okay…”

“That second guy? He had a tattoo on his arm that I recognized.”

“Your ex?”

“My brother,” I clarified. “I went looking for him. But he was missing. Had been for a while, it seemed like. And then one night, I came home to find that guy from the office in my apartment. And then my ex walked out of the hallway. And… and they had Jake.”

“Your brother?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you mean had him?”

“Like kidnapped. Or held hostage? I saw a video. He was all beaten up.” Except, of course, judging by his face I’d seen earlier that night, he’d never been beaten. It had just been, I don’t know, really good makeup, I guess.

“Okay,” Rico agreed, strangely calm at such shocking news. “I’m assuming your ex wanted money?”

“Yes. He said I had to start skimming off of the register and paying him each week.”

“To what end?” Rico asked, sitting forward, elbows going to his thighs.

“He didn’t really have an end. It was weird. He didn’t seem to think I would get caught. The register has to be balanced out.”

“Keep going,” Rico said, voice a little tighter. “Is that the whole thing?”

“I mean, I started taking the money. I didn’t want to, I swear. It was killing me to keep—“

“Babe,” he cut me off. “Right now, facts. We can do feelings later.”

“O…kay,” I agreed, unsure about his recent change in demeanor. Feeling antsy, I started to pace a bit. “But I just… I couldn’t be under his thumb forever. I started to try to stake out parts of the Bronx where I thought he might be.”

“Did you find him?”

“Not until tonight,” I told him. “I just… got lucky, really. He was coming out of a Chinese restaurant. I followed him home.”

“And then?”

“Then I snuck in and went to the basement. I thought that if I could confirm that my brother was there, I would call the police and tell them that Kyle was holding Jake against his will. Torturing him.”

“But you didn’t call the police,” he concluded.

“The basement was empty. So I was glad I didn’t call. I figured I could maybe follow Kyle to the location where he was keeping Jake. But… but then…” I broke off, taking a few deep, steadying breaths.

“Finish it. What happened?”

His head was ducked, so I looked at him, my heart shattering in my chest, knowing I’d broken something that had been rare and precious, something I didn’t think I’d ever get again.

“I was leaving and I saw someone.”

“Your ex?”

“No,” I said, sucking in a deep breath as the metallic taste of bitterness filled my mouth. “It was my brother.”

“What?” Rico asked, head lifting, pinning me with his dark gaze.

I was frozen in the spot, incapable of moving as he stared at me.

“It was Jake. He was walking out of Kyle’s building,” I told him, lower lip wobbling with my still-fresh anger. “And as I was leaving, I saw an email from my brother’s roommate, saying Jake had paid him for the rent and he’d picked up some of his stuff. He was never kidnapped. They were working together.”

“Your brother and your abusive ex.”

It wasn’t exactly a question. But I found myself answering anyway.

“Yes.”

Suddenly, that carefully-contained air about Rico disappeared as he flew off of the couch quickly enough to make me go back a step.

“Do they know who the fuck I am?” he raged as he stalked away from me, moving toward the kitchen. Like there was too much rage inside of him to stay still. “Do they know who they are fucking with?”

Did I?

This wasn’t the Rico I’d known for months, who I’d been intimate with for weeks.

This wasn’t someone I recognized at all.

“Rico,” I called, voice soft, almost trembling. The sound seemed to break through whatever was going on in his mind right then, making him turn back, watching me.

“Yeah?”

“Who are you?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Rico

When she broke down, I knew it wasn’t some evil plan. To distract me with intimacy then rob me blind.

Sure, I’d seen more than a few people use tears and begging to try to get out of trouble for fucking me or my family over.

But this was different.

She fucking shattered.

And despite the betrayal I’d been feeling, I couldn’t just let her suffer, sobbing on the floor like that.

I pulled her onto my lap. I held her as she purged all that toxic shit so she could talk this shit out with me.

I knew there was something going on, something pushing her to do what she’d done.

I didn’t expect for it to be her abusive ex she thought she’d killed and her piece of shit, disloyal brother.

I mean, for fuck’s sake, what kind of brother would team up with the man who hurt his sister only to further terrorize and manipulate her?

I didn’t know.

But I planned to have a little chat with that shithead about it.

My mind was racing, anger at someone fucking me over and on Kick’s behalf making me feel racy and ready to haul off and punch something. Preferably the faces of Kyle and Jake.

Until, of course, Kick’s small voice broke through the tornado of thoughts, asking something I couldn’t have seen coming.

“Who are you?”

To be fair, there were times when I thought it was weird as fuck that she didn’t ask me shit about the family. Considering everything else we’d talked about over the past few weeks.

Then again, it wasn’t exactly something I’d brought up either. And I imagine that people assumed that they couldn’t ask about family business.

It never crossed my mind that she simply didn’t know who I was, what I was involved in, that the shop was a money laundering operation more than just a normal, legitimate business.

Then again, Kick wasn’t from the area.

She had no friends around here.

So unless one of the guys at work mentioned it, there was no way she could have known. And I didn’t think those guys would be dumb enough to talk about their boss’s other business practices while at work.

“You really don’t know?” I asked, watching her face for any tell.

“No, I mean… I thought I knew who you were. But…” she said, waving at me.

Exhaling hard, I nodded. “Does the name Lombardi mean anything to you?” I asked.

“Aside from it being the name of the meat shop, but not actually your last name?” she asked.

“Yeah, besides that.”

“No. Should it?”

“Lombardi family?” I tried.

“Are they famous or something?” she asked, looking lost.

“Infamous, maybe,” I said. “Alright. Well, not to pile on to an already overwhelming night,” I said, gesturing for her to sit. She did, on the end of the coffee table, watching me with suspicious eyes. “The Lombardi family is a crime family.”

“A crime family?” she repeated. “Wait… like… like the mob?” she asked, brows scrunched.

“Yeah, exactly like that,” I agreed, watching her eyes as she processed the information. Then, she let out a little laugh. “What?” I asked.

“The guys at work,” she said, shaking her head. “They used to make these jokes about The Sopranos. It never made any sense to me before. I… get it now. So, you’re, you know, in it? The mob?” she clarified.

“Yeah. Pretty high up, actually.”

“So the meat shop…”

“Launders mafia money,” I confirmed. “Which is probably why that shithead ex of yours thought you could get away with skimming. The money at the shop is… complicated. Not just, you know, matching the cash up to the receipts and shit like that. If I kept less precise books, it probably wouldn’t have gotten found out so soon,” I added.

“Rico, I’m so—“ she started.

“I know,” I cut her off. “I know you didn’t want to do it,” I said, thinking of that haunted, far-away look that she often had that had been bothering me.

“You’re… not mad at me?” she asked.

“I was,” I admitted. “Actually, that’s not even right. I wasn’t mad so much as…”

“Hurt,” she filled in when I couldn’t find the word.

“Yeah,” I agreed.

She nodded at that, blinking some fresh tears out of her eyes. Then her gaze fell, studying her shoes as she spoke again.

“Are you going to have to… kill me?” she asked.

Christ.

I mean, yeah, we were a notoriously ruthless family. But the men? We didn’t hurt women. That said, we were the only family that had female capos. And they didn’t have the same qualms about hurting or killing women that we did. So, yeah, some women had died in the Lombardi name in the past.

But it bothered me that she thought I would do that to her. That I would be capable let alone willing.

I moved across the room in a few quick strides, reaching out to grab her chin and force her to face me.

“No,” I said, voice firm. “I’m not going to have to kill you. I would never kill you. I wouldn’t put a hand on you.”

“But… your boss…”

“Will understand that you were a pawn,” I cut her off. “That the only people to blame are your ex and your brother. And maybe those shits who also robbed my place.”

“You’re going to kill them?” she asked, gaze surprisingly clear as she looked at me.

“I’m on the fence about Jake,” I admitted. “Since he’s your brother. But he can’t get away with this either. But that ex of yours? I’ll be happy to take him outta this world. For good this time,” I added with a smirk that had a strangled laugh escaping her.

“I stabbed him,” she admitted, watching me. If she was looking for a reaction of shock or horror, she wasn’t gonna get that from me. I’d stabbed people too. For a lot less. “In the throat and thigh,” she said. “Someone saw me at work after Kyle beat me,” she added. “He told me how to do it.”

“In the Bronx?” I asked.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Curious if he might be an Esposito.”

“Is that another crime family?” she asked.

“Yeah. They run that borough. Can’t believe that fuck lived when you got him in the throat.”

“I know,” she said. “Believe me, he had things to say about that when he showed up again.”

“Well, you’re not gonna need to hear shit from him again,” I told her, then looked around her place. “Alright, listen,” I said, “I need to go talk to Renzo and… everyone else,” I told her.

“Okay,” she agreed, nodding. “What should I do? Do you need me to tell them everything?”

“No, I can do it. You’ve dealt with enough tonight, I think. But I don’t want to leave you alone here,” I told her. “He got in here once already, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. I’m taking you to my place,” I told her. “Wanna go pack some shit?”

“You… want me to go to your place?”

“Need to know you’re safe with this clusterfuck of a situation. And if I stationed guards here, if someone is watching you, it might tip them off. I don’t want them to know that I know.”

“You don’t have to take me to your place. I’ll be okay,” she insisted.

“No, you’re not staying here.”

“Rico, you don’t owe me anything,” she said, shaking her head. “After what I did.”

“Alright, let’s get this shit out of the way,” I said, waiting for her to look at me again. “Knowing what I know, I’m not mad at you. I get why you did what you did. So, the stealing, that doesn’t change shit between us, okay?”

“It has to.”

“It doesn’t. Look, babe, in my world, there’s a lot of gray area. This is just more of that. But we can talk about it more some other time. Right now, I want to get you somewhere safe. Then I gotta put this up the chain. Talk about the plan.”

“Okay,” she agreed, but was still tense.

“You got a carrier for Evander?” I asked.

“No. I, well, I wasn’t sure he was mine, so I didn’t buy that kind of thing.”

“Got any old delivery boxes he will fit in?” I asked.

“My end tables?” she said, waving toward the cardboard boxes that had been serving that purpose.

She was living like this, busting her ass at work, while her shithead of an ex took as much as he could from her.

“That’ll do,” I said, tamping down the anger that rose up again. I’d get to take it out on Kyle eventually. But right now, I needed to handle this shit. “Go on. Get some of your shit.”

“How much?” she asked.

“Enough for a few days. I’ll grab stuff for Evander,” I told her, then watched as she gave me a nod and walked off toward the bedroom.

Alone, I reached for my phone, shooting off a text to my cousin, telling him to grab one of the family’s cars and meet me at Kick’s place.

We made our way out a while later, an angry Evander yowling and whacking his body against the sides of the box.

The confused look on Bastian’s face made me think he was half-expecting me to need the ride because there was a body involved or something.

“Hey, Bass,” Kick said in a small voice, her head ducked.

“Kick,” he said, opening the door for her. She climbed inside obediently, then took Evander’s box from me.

“Just one minute, babe,” I said, closing the door.

“The fuck is going on?”

“Long story. I only wanna repeat it once, so I’m gonna get Kick settled at our place. Then we’re gonna go talk to Renzo and the others.”

“Sounds good,” Bass said, moving around the car to get in the driver’s seat. On the ride to my place, I made sure two of my soldiers were at the building, ready to keep Kick safe while Bass and I were gone.

“The fuck you got trapped in that box, a demon?” Bass asked as Evander continued to shriek.

“Sorry. He’s always been… very opinionated,” Kick said, trying to coo at the cat who was having none of it. “I’ll try to keep him quiet in the apartment, so your neighbors don’t complain.”

“You could start a cat shrieking band in the apartment and no one would say shit,” Bass said.

I glanced back at Kick, who nodded.

“Right… right,” she added, voice softer, still trying to process the whole mob thing.

There would be time to discuss that more later.

There would be time for a lot of things later.

But right now, I had to get her somewhere safe.

Then I needed to deal with this shit once and for all.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Kick

Rico lived in a very normal apartment building, but on the top floor. There were only four units on the floor, and Rico led me toward his, his hand at the small of my back the whole way as I tried to hold on to the wiggling box.

Bass was behind us, but after handing off my bag to Rico, he went back down the elevator as Rico led me into his apartment.

I have to admit that I’d spent a lot of time wondering about Rico’s apartment. Especially after hearing he’d basically ripped it down to the beams and started from scratch.

The men I’d been around in my life hadn’t exactly been good about the whole decor thing. I mean, my brother and Bobby thought drink cans were art. And as for Kyle, well, when I first went to his apartment, he didn’t have a headboard or an extra towel.

Something about how Rico was always nicely put together, though, made me think that his place would be impressive.

I just didn’t know how impressive.

The common areas were open-concept and dominated by deep gray walls and equally dark hardwood floors.

The living room had a large black brick fireplace and a long sectional in this rich, burnt orange color. Across from it were two chairs. A bar cart was set against the far wall under a generic black and white landscape picture.

The kitchen was behind the living room with slate cabinets, a gray and white quartzite waterfall island, with some open shelving featuring soft white lighting.

It was dark and masculine, but still cozy.

“Wow,” I exhaled as I turned in a circle, taking it all in again.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I agreed, impressed that he even had window treatments, an accent rug in the living room, and a blanket draped over the couch to get comfortable with.

“I have already heard that the art sucks,” he told me, looking over at one of the frames.

“It doesn’t… suck. It might be a little generic, but it doesn’t suck. Why did you want to spend so much time in my apartment?” I asked as I looked around.

“Because you were there,” he said as he took the box out of my hands, placing it down on his coffee table, then opening the tucks on the top.

Evander sprang out, making a beeline for the couch, where he sat, glaring at me. Even though Rico was the one to stuff him in the box in the first place.

“Look, I’m sorry. But look how much nicer this place is. No scratching the couch here,” I said, waggling a finger at him.

“Want a tour?” Rico asked, watching me as Evander started grooming his paws.

“Sure,” I agreed, following Rico as he led me down the hall, revealing a full hall bath that had been finished in a similar color scheme as the main area. “Not gonna go in there. That’s Bass’s room,” he said, waving toward the closed door.

Then he led me to the last door in the hallway.

His bedroom.

Which was surprisingly brighter in color scheme than the rest of the apartment. I imagined in the daytime, when the sun was streaming in the oversized windows, that it would feel even more light.

The walls were partially-exposed brick. The bed was king-sized with a leather tufted headboard in a warm camel tone and covered in neutral bedding that looked luxe and expensive.

There was a single leather chair the same color as the headboard sitting near the window facing the bed. And across from the bed was a large framed piece of art. Except, as I watched it, the art changed.

A framed TV then.

A door was opened to a bathroom that seemed bigger than my whole bedroom, featuring an oversized shower niche, a double vanity, and a soaking tub.

“Why do you ever leave here?” I asked, running a hand over the blanket draped over the corner of the bed.

“Spent more time here when I was working on it than I do now,” he admitted. “Make yourself comfortable. You’re still freezing,” he added, reaching over to touch my cold fingers. “Take a hot bath. Make some coffee. Hang out with Evander. I won’t be too long,” he said.

I followed him back out into the living room.

He checked his phone before looking at me.

“I have two of my guys here standing guard. So if you see someone in the hall, that’s who it is. Don’t want you to panic. Here,” he said, reaching into his pocket and dropping a wad of cash onto the coffee table. “Order some food. You couldn’t have had time to eat.”

I hadn’t.

But I was feeling too wobbly.

“Order me something too. The drawer next to the fridge has some menus,” he said.

I expected him just to walk off right then.

But he surprised me by grabbing me, pulling me close, then pressing a quick kiss to my lips.

“Relax, babe,” he said. “Things are gonna be alright.”

With that, he walked to the door and headed out, leaving me alone in his fancy apartment.

“Well, except for you,” I said to Evander as I went over to the cardboard box, producing the litter box that Rico had thrown in there with him, and setting it up in the hall bathroom. I endured some scratches when I picked him up and put him in there, so he knew where to go.

Then I apologized with some food and milk.

Feeling frazzled, and wanting Rico to have something to eat when he came home, I found the menu drawer, ordered food, and waited for it to arrive.

Then I went ahead and did what he suggested. I ran a stinging-hot bath then climbed in, then let the heat slowly ease the tension in my neck and shoulders.

Eventually, Evander came padding into the room, casting a worried look at me in the water, then hopping up onto the sink counter to keep an eye on things.

“Do you like it here?” I asked him. “I think you might be living here,” I added.

Sure, Rico had been surprisingly kind to me. Understanding of why I’d done what I did. But he’d been confronted by my overwhelming emotions. Once he had some space and time to really think it through, I had a feeling he wouldn’t be so warm toward me. Especially once he talked things over with his cousin, his boss, and whoever else he needed to speak to about the whole situation.

I felt the sting of tears again, but I fought them back as I drained half of the water then filled it back up again with even hotter water.

“I bet Rico can even afford to get you that fancy litter box that cleans itself,” I told Evander as I finally climbed out of the tub. “And one of those cool cat trees. You know, so maybe you play with that instead of scratching the couch all up. But you’re going to need to be an indoor cat because he doesn’t have a fire escape.”

Evander followed me around as I went to get my bag, then got myself dressed.

Exhaustion was pulling at my eyelids as an hour turned to two, then three.

Eventually, I curled up on the couch under the soft faux fur blanket, the TV playing some old sitcom rerun to try to drown out my swirling thoughts before sleep finally overtook me.

___

I didn’t hear the door opening or closing. Or the sound of Rico putting the leftovers in the fridge.

It wasn’t until his arms slid under me that I came awake with a start, my fight-or-flight still engaged as I flailed and gasped.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Rico said, voice soft. “It’s me. I’m just moving you,” he said, then continued to lift me into his arms.

“What time is it?” I asked, leaning against his chest as he carried me down the hallway.

“Late. Go back to sleep,” he said as he lowered me down onto the bed. He pulled the covers up over me, but I was too awake now, too worried about what his boss may have said.

“How’d it go?” I asked, blinking at him in the dark.

“That’s not sleeping,” he said, dropping down on the side of the bed, looking down at me.

“I can sleep later. Am I in trouble?”

“I told you no,” he said, shaking his head at me as he reached to turn on the lamp.

“But your boss…”

“Doesn’t want to punish you for being in a bad situation,” he cut me off. “But he has feelings about that ex of yours.”

“I think we all do,” I agreed. “What about my brother?”

“There’s going to be some questions for him.”

“What kind of questions?”

“Namely, if he knew who he was fucking with,” Rico explained.

“And if he did?” I asked. I wanted to believe my brother was at least partially in the dark, that he had some plausible deniability in the matter. That said, I knew my brother way too well. He was apt to let his greed lead him. Even past using his common sense. If Kyle had suggested that no one would ever figure them out, then Jake would have believed it as he sat there counting his money.

“There’d be consequences.”

“Would you guys kill him?” I asked.

Rico shrugged at that. “Normally, yeah,” he admitted. “But I think everyone understands that it’s complicated. He will have to get his ass out of the city. If he comes back again, I can’t vouch for what Renzo will want to do.”

“I understand that.”

“Also, I can’t tell you what to do, babe, but don’t give that fuck the time of day ever again. If he was willing to link up with an asshole who used to beat his sister, and then put you in danger by stealing from someone like me, then he doesn’t have the right to have access to you again.”

“I’d already cut him off,” I told him. “When Kyle found me that last time, he told me that my brother told him where to find me. And that was the final straw for me with him.”

“Glad to hear that.”

“When are you guys going to, you know, confront them?” I asked.

“Soon,” he told me. “Better you don’t know details,” he added as he leaned down to untie his shoes.

Then he stood, reaching behind his neck to remove his shirt as he walked over toward his walk-in closet, disappearing inside for a moment, then coming back out wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung black sleep pants.

Despite the insanity and emotional intensity of the day, I felt desire start to burn through my system.

Rico paused, likely reading the need in my eyes.

“You’re supposed to be getting some rest,” he said.

“I already did.”

“Okay then,” he said, giving me a little smirk as he climbed up on the bed, pulling the covers down off of me, then coming over me to warm me himself, his weight pressing me into the mattress.

His lips were on mine in seconds, soft and slow at first, then harder and more demanding. My legs wrapped around his waist as his hardness pressed against me.

My hips rocked, making a moan escape me.

Rico’s face went to my neck instead, kissing down my neck as his hand slid up under my shirt, teasing over my bare skin, finding my breast, and squeezing hard.

I arched up into the sensation for a moment before Rico rolled me over him.

I sat back, letting him pull off my shirt, then touch me without anything in the way. I shifted to feel his cock press against my cleft again, then started to rock against him as he teased, massaged, and rolled my nipples.

His hands moved down my sides, then hooked me behind my knees, pulling, and flipping me onto my back.

A gasp turned into a laugh at the move as he moved up onto his knees, pressing my legs into my chest, then reaching to remove my pants and panties.

Then he was lowering down, resting between my thighs, his tongue already on me, working me, driving me up.

“No,” I cried, reaching to grab his head as he moved away just as the orgasm was about to crest.

“Not yet,” he said, lips teasing up, enjoying my frustration.

Then he was flipping me onto my belly, then pulling me back until I was on all fours.

I heard the drawer slide open to his nightstand, then the crinkle of the foil as he worked the condom free.

By the time I felt him move in behind me, I was aching and whimpering.

“Rico, please,” I pleaded, rocking my ass backward toward him.

“Love the sound of you begging for my cock,” he said, his hand massaging my ass for a second.

Then he was moving closer and his cock slammed deep inside of me, making my fingers fist the sheets as I cried out.

He wasn’t teasing me then. His hands sank into my hips, using them to slam me back into him as he thrust forward. He drove me up to the edge, then sent me flying over, crashing down into the orgasm that had me bending forward, pressing my face into the bedding to muffle my cries.

Rico’s hand grabbed a fistful of my hair, pulling me up.

“I want to hear,” he said, fucking me through it, dragging it out. “That’s a good girl,” he murmured, pulling me up against his chest as he started to fuck me again. This time, more slowly, his arms wrapped around me, his lips in my neck.

His fingers found my nipples again, working them into tightened points as he continued to drive me up until my thighs were shaking and my breath felt caught in my chest.

“That’s it, come for me,” he demanded, one of his hands slipping down my belly to work my clit until the orgasm soared through me, this time with nothing to muffle my cries. “One more,” he demanded as soon as I slowed my frantic breathing.

“I can’t,” I said.

“You can,” he assured me. Then he was moving, pulling me with him until I was in his lap, but facing away from him. “Ride me,” he demanded as he brought his knees up for me to rest my hands on and use as leverage. “That’s it,” he said as I started to rock my hips. “Show me how you like it,” he demanded.

The encouragement and the new angle had me riding him harder and faster until the pressure reached a fever-pitch, then the orgasm moved through me, a deep, hard pulsing that had my breath caught and my body trembling.

“Fuck, baby,” Rico groaned, hips rocking up into me, finding his own release on the tail-end of mine.

He pulled me down next to him after, curling his legs up under mine, his arm draped across my hips.

And my stomach chose that exact moment to object to its emptiness. “Why didn’t you eat?” he asked, hand rubbing over my stomach.

“I wasn’t hungry,” I said as he pressed a kiss behind my ear then rolled away from me, going into the bathroom for a moment before coming back out, still gloriously naked.

“Come on,” he demanded, reaching up to grab my ankles and dragging me to the bottom of the bed.

“I need my clothes,” I objected, trying to flip over to reach to the side of the bed to get my shirt at least. Or his.

“No, you don’t,” he said, reaching for my wrists instead, and pulling me to my feet.

“But Bass…”

“Told ‘em to find somewhere else to crash tonight,” he said.

“That wasn’t necessary,” I insisted as his hand slid to mine and started to pull me along with him.

“It was,” he insisted. “What’d you order?” he asked as he led me into the kitchen, then pulled open the fridge door.

“I got spaghetti and meatballs and some lasagne,” I told him.

“Half and half?” he asked, reaching for plates.

“Always,” I agreed, watching as he shot me a soft look before splitting the food up and putting one plate into the microwave. “Are we really going to sit and eat naked?” I asked.

“In bed,” he clarified. “Hey, bud,” he said as Evander came padding into the kitchen to throw his body against Rico’s legs.

“He seems to have settled in,” I said as the cat finished rubbing against Rico, then hopped up on the counter to stare lovingly at him instead.

“Good,” Rico said. “Since you guys are going to be staying here.”

“For a few days,” I said, nodding.

Rico didn’t speak for a second as he took one plate out of the microwave and set the other one in.

“Longer than that, I hope,” he said. “Can’t force you to stay here. But want you to,” he told me.

“Maybe you should give that some thought,” I suggested, taking the plate from him.

He turned to grab forks and knives, slipping one set onto my plate. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” he admitted as he went into the fridge to grab two bottles of water. “Been thinking about buying a bigger place for the both of us,” he went on, handing me my water, then going to fetch his plate.

“What? This place is huge,” I said, looking around again.

“Could use another bedroom or two,” he said. “In case we decide down the road to have kids.”

“You’ve… been thinking about that kind of thing?” I asked, cautiously hopeful.

“For weeks,” he said. “I know shit is new and we need to explore this without the secrets between us for a while before we can give that other shit more serious thought. But I’m game if you are.”

“You’re sure?” I asked, still struggling to believe he was so accepting of my betrayal.

“Yeah, babe, I’m sure. The question is… are you in?”

I was in.

God, I was all in.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Rico

I knew Kick was nervous that Renzo was going to lose his shit about her fucking with the family money.

The thing was, I’d been working so closely with Renzo for so long that the two of us practically shared the same mind on just about every issue.

No, he wasn’t happy that her ex and her brother had the balls to think they could come at us, that they could force one of our employees to work for them.

But, yeah, he understood the impossible situation Kick was in. Even if she and her brother were estranged and there were hard feelings over Jake deciding to side with her ex and lead him to her when she was free of him, there were still some feeling of responsibility when she realized he was in duress.

“You’re sure she’s telling the whole truth?” Cinna asked, watching me.

“I’m sure.”

“I don’t even really know Kick,” Bass piped in. “But that chick looked horrified about what she was doing in the surveillance videos. She wasn’t excited about getting away with something or anything like that.”

To that, Cinna nodded.

“I could lean on her if you want to be sure,” Saff volunteered.

“Absolutely fucking not,” I said, watching as everyone turned to me, brows raised.

Because, yeah, I understood their confusion. I’d always been the one who never wanted to leave a stone unturned, who was always insisting that we knew every single factor of a situation. Whether that meant grueling questioning or outright torture, I was okay with it if it was what was best for the family.

But not when it came to Kick.

“Sounds like congratulations are in order,” Dav said, shooting me his trademark smirk.

“Kinda saw that shit coming since that day she threatened to put some guy’s hand in a meat grinder,” Elian said.

“Gotta give her credit for standing up for herself after everything she’s been through,” Saff said.

“Kinda badass to stab the fucker in the neck too,” Cinna agreed.

“So back to this Kyle fuck… he’s living in the Bronx, right now?” Renzo asked.

I knew what he was thinking. Given the way the Five Families in the city were set up, we couldn’t just waltz our asses into a borough that belonged to another family and do whatever the fuck we wanted. Especially a murder. Or several murders, since it wasn’t just Kyle who needed to be neutralized. There’d been three other guys aside from Jake who’d robbed my place, who’d hurt my employees in the process.

“Yeah, he is. I don’t have the exact address, but yeah, it’s definitely in the Bronx.”

“So, next step is a meeting with Primo,” Renzo said, nodding.

That was no big deal for us. Even before the marriage of Renzo to Lore Costa that created a truce between us and the Costa, D’Onofrio, and Morelli families, we’d always been tight with Primo Esposito.

When the power shift happened a while back, shaking up the holds each of the families had, our family and the Espositos got the short end of the stick. Which forced us to have more of a truce, giving us a little power against the other families.

So calling up Primo and telling him we had to do some work on his turf wasn’t going to be a big deal.

“I’ll reach out and ask him to come see me at the shop tomorrow,” I offered.

“Good. Now, what about the brother?” Renzo asked. “We can’t kill him.”

“Why the hell not?” Saff asked, face scrunched up.

“Because it’s Kick’s brother,” Dav said.

“So? He’s a dirtbag. I mean, who the hell manipulates their sister like that? He deserves a trip to the bottom of the Hudson.”

I was inclined to agree. But I also couldn’t murder the woman I was falling in love with’s brother. I might not have been an expert on relationships, but I was reasonably sure you shouldn’t start a relationship with that kind of dark cloud hanging over you.

“I think it’s fine to knock some sense into him,” I offered. “Then tell him to get the fuck out of the city and never come back, never try to make contact with Kick.”

“I’d be alright with that. So long as he stays away. If he ever starts shit again, though…” Renzo said, spreading his hands out.

“I agree,” I said.

“I imagine you want to get your hands dirty with these guys?” he asked, looking at me.

“If that’s alright, yeah.”

“Yeah,” he said, glancing up to where Lore was walking across the top landing, a book open in her hands, likely thinking of how dirty he’d wanted his hands when someone fucked with her. “That’s fine. Alright. That’s settled, at least.”

“Has there been any more progress on Coal getting jumped?” Elian asked.

“Cage thinks he might have a lead on that,” Renzo said, which was news to me. I’d been so distracted by Kick that I was losing sight of family business. “But we don’t have a definitive answer yet.”

“What is the lead?” I asked.

“Well,” Renzo said, sighing hard as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Cage has reason to believe it might be the two younger sons of Slick.”

“Slick?” I asked, brows raising. I hadn’t heard that name in years. Not since Renzo had taken over and promptly kicked his ass out of the family, only sparing his life because he had a whole litter of kids to take care of and a ‘fragile’ wife who never would have been able to handle it without him.

“His youngest two are just twenty-one and three,” Renzo explained.

“They out of their fucking minds trying to take on the family?” Bastian asked.

“I think it might be more out of spite for them,” Renzo explained. “Coal isn’t even family and he gets to be working for us, while they’re ousted because their old man was a shithead. And, I mean, I get it. Our old men sucked too. Didn’t mean we deserved to suffer for their sins.”

“You considering inviting them in?” I asked.

Renzo was a hard man, a firm leader, but he did seem to have a soft spot for lost kids who needed direction. That was why Cinna, Dav, and Saff ended up working for the family.

“I dunno. Depends on what Cage figures out. I want full reports on them and what they’re up to. Their older brothers too. And Slick. Last I heard, he was working as a mechanic, but I want to make sure that’s the case. Shit is relatively stable with us. I don’t want to invite trouble. But I do understand their anger at having their legacy stripped away from them because their old man is a fuck up.”

We talked for a while about other, smaller matters, before we all headed out.

I made the call to Primo before I made my way home to Kick.

Even just that thought made that strange warm sensation move across my chest. It was something I was having a lot around her or with thoughts of her.

It was clear she was still uncertain about me. Or, maybe more accurately, about my reaction to the situation between us.

I hoped that with a few days in my place, with proof that things were okay between us, she would stop asking for confirmation that things were okay, that I still wanted her around.

“What are you doing?” I asked the next morning after having finally spent the whole night with her, woken up with her still curled up against me.

“What do you mean?” she asked, coming into the kitchen still pulling her damp hair into a ponytail, her Lombardi Premium Meats tee on.

“What are you getting all dressed for?” I asked.

“Work?” she asked, brows scrunched. “You know, that thing I do five or six days a week,” she added, accepting a cup of coffee from me.

“You don’t have to go to work.”

“I kind of do,” she said, shaking her head at me. “I have bills to pay. A cat with very expensive tastes to feed…”

As if on cue, Evander came strolling into the kitchen, whacking himself against me before hopping up on the counter to eat the food I’d already set out for him.

I wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to worry about bills anymore because she was going to be living with me. That I would buy Evander his food and toys and anything else he, or she, needed or wanted.

But things were still new.

I didn’t want to freak her out.

“Okay,” I agreed. “Probably good for things to be status quo for a bit,” I added.

She nodded at that. “What about after work?” she asked.

“What do you mean? You’re coming here.”

Her eyes warmed at that. “I mean… what if Kyle or his guys are watching?”

That was a good point.

“Hop in a cab after work. Tell it to head to your place, but once there, take it here.”

“I can do that,” she agreed, nodding. “But what if they catch on?”

They wouldn’t be alive for long enough to, I thought, but didn’t want to say that aloud.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re going to be at work, safe, with me and Bastian. Then you’re going to be here, safe. No one is going to get a chance to get to you again.”

Satisfied with that, she went back to her coffee.

Eventually, Bass showed up with breakfast sandwiches, and we all ate before heading in to work. Me with Bass, Kick in a cab.

My stomach was in knots until she walked through the doors a few minutes after us.

It was about half an hour later, some of the employees still streaming in with just a couple minutes to spare before opening, when Bass pushed open the front door, and in walked Primo Esposito.

There was always an air that bosses had about them. A sort of untouchable confidence and that undercurrent of power.

That could absolutely be said of Primo, a man who had the balls to kidnap a Costa woman and basically force her into a marriage to forge a truce between the two families.

His gaze slid across the shop, taking it all in for a moment. He offered me a nod but his gaze went to Kick, his head tipping to the side as the two of them looked at each other, recognition clear in their eyes.

“Knew your ass was up to no good,” Primo said, giving her a dark smile. “Ever find that brother of yours?” he asked.

This was a part of the story she’d left out. Likely not thinking it was important. But it was interesting that she’d crossed paths with the very person we needed to get permission from to put an end to the situation she was trapped in.

Kick was still raw. I expected her to tear up or something like that. But she leveled an even look at Primo and declared, “Unfortunately.”

To that, Primo let out a low chuckle.

“Know a thing or two about bad brothers,” he said.

He could say that again.

But that was his story to tell, not mine.

“Where we doing this?” Primo asked, looking at me.

I led him into the back, giving him the lowdown of the whole situation, and asking for permission to head into his territory to end it once and for all.

“Gotta do what you gotta do,” Primo said, giving me a nod. “Now, I expect an invite to the wedding,” he said, standing and buttoning his suit jacket before making his way out of the front.

But he paused next to Kick, giving her a long, knowing look. “Speaking from experience, found family can be better than blood,” he told her.

Then, with that, he was gone.

Though a couple minutes after closing, there was a bang on the back door, making Bass and I walk out to see what was going on.

Then there was Vissi. Who was to Primo what I was to Renzo. The right-hand man.

He shoved a hooded man onto the ground in the alley.

“Delivery,” he said, giving me a nod. “Primo sends his best. Says he’s got the others on ice for when you’re ready for them.”

I should have expected nothing less.

Primo ruled the Bronx with an iron fist. He wasn’t going to stand by and let a crew of idiots fuck over a fellow mob family under his nose.

“I’ll have Coal bring a car around,” Bass said, pulling out his phone. “You want us to put him on ice for you?” he asked, glancing back at the door like he expected Kick to come out at any second and see her ex crumpled on the ground.

I was conflicted.

The bigger part of me wanted to say yes, to grab Kick and go home and spend time with her.

The other part, though, knew that having this hanging over our heads was no way to live.

“No. I’m gonna have Saff come and take Kick home. Then we are gonna finish this. Tonight,” I said, walking over to Kyle and landing a hard kick to his gut as a car came to a stop at the mouth of the alley.

Bass nodded. “I’ll gather up Serano, Cinna, and Dav, and we will go get the others.”

“Good,” I agreed.

This ended tonight.

Then Kick and I could really start our lives together.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Kick

“How is it that Rico has such good taste?” Saff asked as she looked around Rico’s apartment. “I mean, first the meat shop renovations and now this…”

“You’ve never been here?” I asked, watching the blue-haired woman run her hand over the waterfall island.

“No. Rico has always been a bit of an enigma. Don’t get me wrong, he’s an ever-present part of the family. Practically shares the boss role with Renzo. But he’s always kept his private life private. I kind of want to go snoop through his drawers,” she admitted. “Would you tell on me?” she asked.

“Probably,” I admitted.

“Fiiiine,” she said. “Probably for the best. I mean, I don’t know if I could look the man in the face if I found out his nightstand is full of cock rings or alien dildos. I mean, to each their own. But there’s some things I don’t need to know about my coworkers, you know. But… does he have alien dildos? I read an alien smut book recently and now I’ve got all these ideas…”

“Alien smut?” I asked, brows pinched.

“Yeah. It was our book club pick,” she said, opening up the fridge to snoop around in areas where she likely would not find Rico’s sex toys. If he even had them. “I didn’t think it would be my thing. But seven-foot-tall dudes with long tongues and cocks that have little notches on them? What’s not to like?”

“I didn’t even know alien smut existed,” I admitted. I hadn’t ever been much of a reader. I mean, sure, I went through a little teen dystopian romance phase like most girls my age had, but then kind of just lost interest.

“You never dive right into alien smut,” Saff said. “It starts with some romantasy with magical elements. Then maybe you dabble in fae. Possibly some vampire. Then, well, all bets are off once you start getting into demons, shifters, and monsters. I’m curious if Lore, Elizabeth, and Islah were as into it as I was. The aliens were a little possessive to the max. Which wasn’t my favorite. But the banging was hot. I mean, the dudes were big enough to hold the women up and fuck them. Hot.”

“Isn’t Lore Renzo’s wife?” I asked, still trying to keep everyone straight.

“Yeah. And Elizabeth is Elian’s girl. Islah is Elian’s sister. So if you can maybe not tell him that I’m having his little sister read alien porn, that would be great.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” I said, deciding I already really liked Saff. She was refreshing with how open she was. How sure of herself.

“You should join us next month. It’s Lore’s pick, so it’s more romantasy, not just straight up fucking with small plot points in between. I’ll send a copy here,” she decided, already reaching for her phone before I could object. She was still tucking her phone away when Evander came walking in, eyeing her suspiciously. “Holy shit. It’s a cat. Renzo has a cat?”

“Well, he’s mine. Sort of. But his heart belongs to Renzo. He barely tolerates me.”

“What’s his name?”

“Evander,” I told her. “Do you have any pets?”

“I work too much,” she said, trying to pet the cat, who eyed her warily but let her do one little scratch before he started to hiss.

“As a capo?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Is that a common thing?” I asked. “Female capos,” I clarified. “TV and movies make it seem like—“

“A sausage fest?” she interjected. “Yeah, it usually is. There are five New York families. We are the only one with female capos. So far. I mean, maybe the others will follow suit. But they’re different families.”

“How so?”

“We’re kind of a hodgepodge crew here. Normally, it is very much so family. Like blood family. But the Lombardi family was in shambles when Renzo took over. Not a lot of guys who were actually blood-related to fill in. So he brought in outsiders. He was a bit of a rebel boss from the beginning, so it was no big deal to break the rules further and bring in women.”

“So all the other families you can only be in if you were born in?”

“Well, except for the Espositos, I guess,” she said, nodding. “That was a shitstorm of a situation a few years back. He had to rebuild like Renzo did. So he has more outsiders too.”

I wasn’t surprised the man I’d met on the street that night ended up being a mafia boss. That was the vibe he had. Powerful. Intimidating. In control.

“Okay. Enough mafia talk. What are we eating?” Saff asked, going to the fridge again. “Clearly not anything here,” she decided.

We went through the menu drawer, picking a restaurant, then meals for ourselves as well as Rico and Bass.

“He’s probably not coming home, but it doesn’t hurt to have leftovers.”

“Doesn’t Bass live here?” I asked.

“Right now, he’s living between the thighs of as many women as he can find,” Saff said. “Not that anyone can blame him when he was locked up for so long. But I imagine it has less to do with that and more to do with Rico wanting privacy with you.”

“I don’t want to put him out, though.” Even if it had been oddly freeing to walk around Rico’s place naked the night before, to be as loud as we wanted in bed that night and first thing in the morning.

“Trust me, he’s not upset about it,” Saff said, waving off my worries. “So… alcohol?” she asked, walking over to the cart without waiting for my answer. She didn’t need to. If ever I really needed a drink, this was it.

I knew why Rico wasn’t home with me.

He was… handling things with Kyle.

I knew a better person, a good person would have objections to his plan. I mean what decent human being condoned murder?

But I’d been living months thinking I’d killed Kyle.

It would be silly to be upset about someone else killing him. And after having been at his beck and call for many years, I knew better than anyone that the world would be a better place without him walking around.

I also couldn’t bring myself to have any issues with that attempted rapist getting a swift trip to hell either.

And after learning my brother was working with my ex, well, any remaining feelings of familial affection or obligation just evaporated.

I didn’t want him dead.

But I did want him gone.

I never wanted to see him again.

I wanted to put my faith to rest in the words of Primo Esposito.

Found family can be better than blood.

Because, damn, they certainly couldn’t be any worse, that was for sure.

I’d already gotten to know Rico, Bastian, and Saff. All of them cared more than my own flesh and blood did about me.

Saff was already inviting me to book club.

Rico was talking about condos with extra rooms.

Even Primo Esposito had mentioned wanting to come to the wedding.

It was scary to hope, but I was praying that I could fit in here, that I could eventually call all these people my own. That I wouldn’t have to know lonely holidays again or always only have myself to lean on.

“You don’t have to stay,” I told Saff as she nodded off for the fourth time in ten minutes, each time snapping awake to stare blearily at the silly comedy movie we’d put on to lighten the mood as hours slipped away. As the sky went from the darkest part of night to the lightest parts of dawn.

“I’m fine,” Saff insisted.

“There are guards outside,” I reminded her. “I’m safe here.”

“I’m gonna st…” she started, but was cut off by her phone beeping on her thigh. “Prince Charming is on his way home,” she said, finally getting up off the couch, stretching like a cat, and rolling cricks out of her neck. “So I am going to get going. Don’t forget to look for the book,” she said as she grabbed her purse. “It should be here in the morning.”

With that, we said our goodbyes and I waited anxiously to hear Rico’s key in the door.

In a few minutes, the door was pushing open.

And there he was.

He had a black hoodie on over his usual clothes, but I could still see a splash of blood on his neck.

“Are you hurt?” I asked, rushing forward, arms raised, ready to pull his shirt out of the way so I could see.

“Don’t,” he said, tone a little sharp. “Don’t touch me,” he added, voice softer. “I need to change and shower,” he told me. “And I need you not to touch me or the clothes, okay?”

This was a forensics type of thing, I realized. He was trying to protect me.

“Okay,” I agreed, but I did follow behind him as he moved through the apartment, making me realize his shoes were already missing when he’d come inside.

He toed out of his socks, grabbing them, and tossing them into the tub. Next went his hoodie, his blood-soaked shirt, his pants, underwear. Then he was completely naked and walking into the shower niche, turning the water on with his elbow, then stepping inside.

I stood there, watching as he soaped and scrubbed. Once. Twice. Under his nails, in his hair. Every inch of him must have been squeaking by the time he finally stopped soaping up.

I didn’t hesitate then.

I slipped out of my clothes, leaving them in the bedroom, then stepping across the bathroom and into the niche.

My arms went around him and I pulled him close, held him tight.

“Thank you,” I murmured against his warm skin as the hot water splashed down my back.

“Don’t ever have to thank me for protecting you,” he said, his arms going around me, a thousand pounds of pressure falling from his shoulders as he did.

A deep exhale escaped him as his face pressed against the side of mine.

“Do you want me to heat up dinner?” I asked.

“No, babe,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I just want to go to bed. And sleep in late. So, you’re calling out tomorrow and staying here with me.”

“Sounds good to me,” I said, wanting nothing more.

We stayed there for a long time, just enjoying the closeness. But, soon, we both started to yawn.

Climbing out in silence, we toweled off. When I went over to the sink to brush my teeth, Rico went to the linen closet, grabbing a gallon of bleach, then stopping the tub and starting to fill it with scalding hot water. And the entire gallon.

“Gonna keep this door closed,” he said after brushing his teeth too, turning on the exhaust fan, then following me into the bedroom. “That’s gotta cook for a few hours.”

With that, we both made our way to the bed, tumbling in and curling up.

Maybe we should have lain awake, tossing and turning, fretting over the moral repercussions of the events of the night.

But we both drifted off easily, lulled by one another and all of the possibilities laid out before us.

EPILOGUE

Rico - 1 Day

Kick needed more sleep than I did. All the weeks of stress and fear had clearly done a number on her. And with all of that shit handled for good, she was sleeping like a baby.

I slipped out of bed around ten, draining the tub, then rinsing the clothes. The black hoodie and pants were now a light gray with splashes of white from where the bleach made direct contact before it got diluted. Everything reeked. But it was all going to go through a wash cycle at the laundromat before I handed off the tee and the hoodie to an unhoused guy I passed. The pants could go in a dumpster somewhere.

The disposal of it all was the main reason I never had and likely never would have an expensive wardrobe. The number of clothes I’d needed to get rid of over the years was ridiculous. But, hey, some needy people were better clothed for it.

Bass was the one to take the clothes away that morning, though, needing to get rid of his own.

While I’d been the one showing Kyle and his near-rapist buddy the error of their ways, Bastian had been in the room with us. And, yeah, the blood got everywhere before I finally had enough and put an end to their miserable asses.

Coal had been the one to take out the other two. Renzo felt it was time for him to officially make his bones.

So, in the next few months, I figured I could expect to call Coal an equal, a capo instead of a soldier.

“Hey, why didn’t you wake me?” Kick asked, coming out from the hallway wearing barely-there shorts and a thin tee, her hair all bed-messy, her eyes still heavy-lidded from sleep.

“Because you needed your sleep,” I said, reaching into the cabinet to pull down a mug for her.

“It’s eleven-thirty,” she said.

“Which means we can order lunch which is, arguably, a better meal than breakfast.”

“Oh, come on. A nice stack of French toast with powdered sugar? No sandwich can beat that,” she said.

“You’ve clearly never had an Italian Ice Cream Cone,” I told her.

“What is an Italian Ice Cream Cone?” she asked as she sipped her coffee.

“A hollowed out piece of Italian bread stuffed with meatballs, cheese, and sauce,” I told her, watching her lips part.

“Okay. That might be better than French toast,” she agreed. “So we’re getting those, obviously. When do they open?”

“They’re open now. I can have someone drop them off… no?” I asked as she pouted.

“Can we go to pick them up?” she asked. “We could really use some more treats and kitty litter for Evander too,” she added.

That was a lot of we.

And I liked that a lot more than I could have anticipated.

“Sure,” I agreed. “Sounds good. Need anything else?”

“I’m going to need to go back to my apa—“

“No, you don’t,” I cut her off.

To that, she let out a small laugh. “I meant to get some more of my clothes,” she said.

“What for?” I asked. “You won’t need them.”

“Bastian is going to come home eventually, you know,” she insisted.

“Not if I tell him to crash with Coal for a while.”

“You can’t do that to him,” she said, shaking her head at me. “This is his home too.”

“Alright. Fine. We’ll move out. Wanna go house hunting this afternoon?” I asked, only half joking. That had just moved up high on my list of priorities. If Bastian wanted this place, he could have it. And I’d get a place for Kick and me where we could be as naked and loud as we wanted.

She laughed it off, but there was a light of hope in her eyes.

“Let’s start with spending the week together,” she suggested.

Kick - 1 week

It was funny how one week of living at Rico’s place made it feel more like home than months in my apartment.

Even before my clothes were hanging in his closet and my bath products were scattered around his shower and sink cabinets, it just felt, I don’t know, right.

I even really liked Bastian being around. Though, yeah, I was painfully aware of his presence on the nights when he was home and Rico and I were in bed.

It was nice to have people to share meals with, to have small talk over coffee or watch shows with.

“So, did you read it?” Saff asked, sitting on the counter I’d just wiped down at the shop, her legs swinging as she looked at me out of a blackened eye.

I had to admit, it was going to take some time to adjust to seeing the female capos sporting injuries I’d once walked around with. But without all the mental and emotional pain I’d felt. Since, as far as I could tell, Saff and Cinna tended to wear their bruises or cuts with pride.

“I… did,” I admitted, feeling a flush creep up my neck and across my cheeks at just the memory of some of those spicy scenes in that alien book.

I was still working my way through the giant romantasy one for the actual book club, but once the alien smut showed up on my doorstep the day before, I’d caught myself creeping out of bed in the middle of the night so the light didn’t wake up Rico, and devouring the rest of the book in the living room with Evander lazily swatting at the dangling ball on his cat tree to keep me company.

It was definitely thin on the plot, heavy on the steam, and completely and utterly addictive.

“That flush tells me you want to go book shopping with me tomorrow to get all of the sequels.”

“How many are there?” I asked.

“Twelve,” she told me, smiling. “Hey, Rico,” she said, making me turn to see him walking in from the office where he’d been speaking to Renzo. “I wanna take your girl book shopping tomorrow. Give her a stack.”

“What? No. I can buy my own books,” I insisted as Rico wrapped an arm around my lower back, pulling me close, and pressing a kiss to my temple.

“I mean, sure, you can,” Saff agreed. “But why should you if a guy is willing to buy them for you?”

“Saff once got a guy to pay her rent just to get her phone number,” Rico said.

“No way,” I said, brows raising.

“Then changed my number as soon as the payment posted,” Saff said, nodding.

“The kicker is, she probably made ten times what that guy made a year,” Rico said.

“Hey, it’s only fair.”

“How’d you figure?” Rico asked.

“He will never have to buy a box of tampons. That’s several grand you guys get in your pockets over a lifetime that we don’t have. And we’re not even factoring in waxing, makeup, bras. Or the things that are the same but cost more because they’re marketed toward women.”

“Can I buy your books too, Saff?” Rico asked, fingers tickling my hip for a second.

“I don’t know if you can afford my book buying plans,” Saff said as the bells to the front door jingled.

We all turned to look to see Cage starting to make his way in. But as soon as he spotted Saff, he turned and headed back out.

“Hey!” Saff yelled loud enough to make me jolt as she whipped around on the counter, then jumped down. “Get back here, you asshole,” she called, rushing out of the shop to, it seemed, catch up to the retreating Cage.

“What was that about?” I asked when we were alone.

“When it comes to Saff? Who the fuck knows. Could be he screwed her over on a deal. Could be he ate the last donut at brunch. So, you’re having a girls day with Saff?” he asked.

“Yeah. She invited me to be part of her book club,” I said, lips curving up. “I haven’t had girl friends in a really long time,” I added. “It’s nice to be included.”

“So, what kind of books are you getting?” he asked as I went back to wiping down surfaces to have the shop ready for the morning.

“Oh, just some ones that Saff recommended,” I said, not exactly lying, but my ears felt hot at the idea of telling him the whole truth.

“Would it happen to be more books about seven-foot aliens with notched cocks?” he asked, making me spin around, eyes going huge. “Found the book stashed behind a pillow on the couch. Were you hiding it?” he asked.

“I just… it was, you know…”

“Don’t have to hide your alien porn,” he said. “Actually, I think I’d like to reenact that scene on page one-fifty,” he said, ducking down to throw me over his shoulder, slapping my ass with one hand, and carrying me into the back.

Where, in fact, we reenacted the scene from page one-fifty. Which was leaps and bounds better in real life than fiction.

Kick - 3 months

“Ugh, damnit!” I snapped, tossing the Allen wrench just as the apartment door opened.

“The fuck are you doing?” Rico asked, tossing his keys in the bowl then closing the door behind him.

“Building a rotating bookcase. Or, failing to build a rotating bookshelf, more like,” I said, waving at the mess of parts still spread out in front of me on the floor. Except for the box it came in. Which was set a few feet away with Evander happily sleeping inside of it. Only popping his head out every once in a while to remind me with judgmental eyes how little he thought of me and my skills.

I should have known I would have no success with this after trying to put together that little plant stand I’d bought after a simple spider plant from the grocery store led to a pothos which led to a fiddle leaf fig and a monstera. And, well, it just kept going. We were going to be living in a jungle in the near future at this rate.

But it was the first time in my adult life that I could actually buy things without having to worry about leaving them behind. My life had stability. It was safe to start accumulating things. Plants, books, stuff I found I loved and that Rico was happy to have in the apartment.

He was always trying to get me to spread out, to really move in, to make the place my own.

Rico had ended up needing to step in and build that plant stand for me. With the kind of ease that made me embarrassed to have spent the whole afternoon on something that took him fifteen minutes.

“You should have just waited for me,” Rico said, coming over to sit on the ground next to me and reaching for the Allen wrench. “How about you get the books while I get this together?” he suggested.

They were currently sitting in a sad little stack in our walk-in closet.

“Maybe we should keep the spicier books in the bedroom, though,” he said, shooting me a wicked little smirk as he reached for some of the pieces of the shelf.

After he’d read that one alien smut scene, then we had the time of our lives reenacting it in the office at the meat shop, I’d started to share the steamy book scenes with him in bed. Sometimes, he would even read them aloud to me while his fingers slipped into my panties and started to tease me.

“That’s a good idea,” I agreed, going to grab the thick, heavy romantasy tomes that Lore was always recommending to me when I was at her and Renzo’s place.

After the first book club meeting, we’d gotten just as close as I had with Saff and, eventually, Cinna. Where Lore shared books with me and gave me some basic cooking lessons once I’d confessed wanting to be able to cook for Rico on occasion, and Saff provided lots of fun trips out of the apartment and exploring Brooklyn, and Cinna gave me some basic self-defense lessons.

It was strange and wonderful to have so many people around me who wanted to spend time with me, who were kind and supportive and, above all else, loyal. Because that was the most important thing in this big found family I now found myself as a part of.

I got distracted by my books, sorting through them and carrying them out stack by stack. On my last trip out, Rico had finished the round, rotating bookshelf and put it in its new home.

“You want help organizing them?” he asked, waving toward the books piled on the coffee table.

“Actually, first, I should maybe thank you for all your hard work,” I said, walking over to him, watching his eyes go heated as I lowered down onto my knees in front of him and slid my hands up my thighs.

Then I went ahead and showed him this new technique I’d read about in one of those books on the table.

Rico - 8 months

“You gotta have an open mind,” I told Kick as we walked up the street toward the condo I was thinking of buying.

“Okay…” she said, brows pinching.

“It’s about the potential,” I added as we approached the building.

“Is this your careful way of telling me it’s a complete wreck?” she asked, clearly knowing me too well already.

“It… needs some work,” I admitted as the real estate agent moved outside to let us in.

The building itself was nice. New floor, new paint, all the bells and whistles when it came to security and amenities.

But the previous owners of the penthouse had started to do major renovations only to run out of money. Then go to jail for their insider trading.

“I’m starting to think you are lying just to surprise me,” Kick said as we walked off the elevator to the top hall featuring two penthouses, looking at the 3D wallpaper and the bronze wall sconces.

The real estate agent shot me a knowing smile as she pressed the key into the lock, then let us move inside on our own.

“Oh… wow,” Kick said, eyes going round as she took in the mess.

The walls were stripped down to the studs. The floors had been ripped up, leaving just the plywood underneath our feet as we moved inside.

“I did warn you,” I said. “But, look at it this way, we can choose every detail. Even where the walls go,” I added. “We could do two bigger spare rooms. Or three slightly smaller ones,” I told her, leading her around the space. “I even saved some ideas for built-in features for Evander. And bookshelves for you.”

“You don’t have to—“

“We,” I cut her off, “will be making it the perfect place for us and that includes somewhere to put your books. But if you’d rather pick somewhere fully finished already, we can do that. This will be a solid eight to twelve months of construction here.” Even with tossing as much money at the Costa construction company as I wanted to incentivize them.

“I’m not in a rush,” she said. “I like spending time with Bass,” she insisted. I was sure it helped that Bastian still spent most nights out of the apartment, only coming home in the early hours of the morning to catch a shower and some sleep. “I like the idea of getting to pick everything out ourselves. I mean, not that I am any good at that kind of thing. But you are.”

And after living with her for months, I was starting to see the types of things she liked and needed, so I could incorporate that kind of shit into the build too. More space in the bathroom cabinets. More linen closets. A comfortable chair to read in. Room for the plant collection that seemed to be growing by the day.

“Wanna see one of the best parts?” I asked, reaching for her hand.

“Absolutely,” she agreed, letting me lead her through what would, eventually, be the primary bedroom. Then through the sliding glass doors and out onto the massive balcony.

“Oh, wow,” she gasped, eyes going wide. “We could put plants out here! An actual garden. And furniture. We could start hosting outdoor parties,” she said, rounding the edge of the building. There was a tall cement wall blocking our side of the balcony from the other penthouse’s one.

By the time she came back around, I already had the box out of my pocket and in my hand.

“What…” she started, then her gaze went to the ring nestled in the blue velvet.

“Marry me,” I said, watching as her eyes went glassy. “And I promise I’ll build you your very own library.”

“With a ladder for gliding on?” she asked, sniffling.

“And room on top for plants,” I agreed.

“Yes,” she said, reaching to grab my face and pull it to hers, sealing her lips to mine before I could even get the ring on her finger.

“Well, now we both have projects to work on,” she said when we finally broke apart and I slid the diamond on her finger, feeling the weight of what I was offering her.

My future.

Forever.

I couldn’t imagine either without her.

“You build our home,” she said, pressing another quick kiss to my lips. “And I will plan the wedding.”

Kick - 2 years

“You’re sure it’s straight?” I asked Saff who was sitting on the counter in the shop.

Not the meat shop.

My shop.

A plant shop.

Right next to the meat shop, sure, since Rico was overprotective and wanted me close to him and his soldiers, but my venture.

“Stop touching it,” Saff demanded, shaking her head at me as my hands dropped away from the sign on the wall.

It was a small shop.

Heavily featuring plants that I’d actually propagated from my own collection at home.

But I had it set up in a way that I hadn’t seen in any of the other plant shops I’d visited in the boroughs. I had the plants separated by how easy or finicky they were.

There was the ‘You Can’t Kill These’ section featuring things like pothos, heart leaf philodendrons, snake, and ZZ plants and a ‘Will Probably Break Your Heart’ section featuring the much more finicky ferns, alocasias, fiddles, and strings of pearls.

I had planters made by local artisans, a ‘soil bar’ where you could stock up on my special chunky house blend, fertilizers, and some merchandise.

“I know,” I said at her head shake when I touched the sign again. “I’m just nervous,” I admitted. “I really want this to work.”

“Didn’t you hear?” Saff asked. “They used to say that dogs are the new children, but now, plants are the new dogs. Everyone wants to live in a jungle these days. It’s gonna be a huge hit.”

It wasn’t like I was filling a void. There were a bunch of plant shops in Brooklyn. But there weren’t any in this particular neighborhood. And I really put a lot of thought into the look of the place, wanting to appeal to that younger generation that was as plant-obsessed as I had become once I got my first gateway plant.

“Okay. Open up already,” she demanded as she hopped off of the counter.

It was half an hour early, but I was too excited to care as I unlocked the door and flipped the sign.

Some part of me was worried sick that I would just stand there all day, heart breaking, with no one walking in.

But within fifteen minutes of flipping the sign, two young women passing with their coffees came rushing in, all excited to see I had one of their ‘dream’ plants for sale.

I’d been busting my butt promoting the plant shop on socials and through flyers, including ones I had up at the meat shop.

By mid-day, I felt safe saying that Lombardi Living Roots was already a success.

No, I was never going to get rich selling plants. But I didn’t need to. Rico made more than enough money to keep us comfortable. I just wanted to do something that brought me joy. And, well, the family could always use another way to wash a little money.

Saff made her way out mid-day after a particularly tense call but I had visits from a bunch of the women in the family throughout the day, reminding me why I’d chosen the name for the shop that I had.

Because roots were exactly what this family had given me. For once in my life, I was safe and stable enough to let my roots grow good and deep, without fear that they might get pulled out at any time. And that allowed me to finally thrive, to reach my own full potential.

Instead of bells on the door, I’d opted for this cute little door chime that chirped like a bird.

“I’ll be right out,” I called, washing my hands after repotting a plant that a curious three-year-old had knocked down while his mom was distracted by a particularly gorgeous Pink Princess philodendron.

“You’re taking a quick lunch break,” Rico’s voice said, walking into the back room with me.

Before I could turn, he was moving in behind me at the sink, pinning me against it with his body. He ducked down, his lips going to my neck, kissing that spot just behind my ear I loved so much.

“Been busy over here,” he said, and my belly flip-flopped at the idea of him watching.

He’d been so supportive through the whole process. Renting the building, helping me plan the interior of the shop, carting endless packages inside with me, listening to my late night panic attacks about it all being a giant failure, and even taking a bunch of the promotional images for the shop for me.

I couldn’t have gotten to opening day without him.

“It has,” I agreed, melting against him. “I think it’s going to go well.”

“I know it is,” he said, teeth nipping my earlobe as his hand slid up my belly.

I glanced down, seeing the ring on his finger I’d slipped on just four months ago. I still got all warm and gooey inside when I saw it. And finally understood why, all during our engagement, he would always turn my hand to look at my engagement ring on my finger.

It had been a gorgeous wedding.

Lots of flowers.

All of our loved ones.

Even some of the other Five Family members had shown up.

One of them, Anthony Costa, who’d done most of the work on our condo, had nearly knocked over our wedding cake, but had been pulled away by his tie at the last possible second by his wife.

But other than that, it had gone off without a hitch. Save for a particular floral arrangement that had caused a lot of stir, all of the capos standing around talking in hushed voices with concerned eyes until Saff had grabbed my hand, dragged me over there, and demanded that Rico tell me what was going on.

And that was that the flowers had been sent by my brother.

He hadn’t made contact since Rico and the others had driven him out of the city. I honestly hadn’t even cared to keep tabs on him, to know what he was up to. After what he’d done in my past, he’d forfeited his right to my future.

The flowers had been daisies, my favorite when I was a kid. And the card had been a simple I’m sorry. You deserved better. I hope you’re happy.

I didn’t hate Jake. Even after everything.

But that didn’t mean he was forgiven.

It didn’t mean he would ever be allowed in my life again.

I had my real family now.

The ones who would do everything in their power to protect me, to support me. The ones who genuinely loved me.

“This is very unprofessional of us,” I said as Rico’s hands slid under my shirt and slipped under the cups of my bra, cupping me, teasing.

“When has that ever stopped us?” Rico asked, grinding his hardness against my ass.

“That’s true,” I said, thinking of all the times we’d been just like this in the office of the meat shop. During workdays. After hours. We could never keep our hands to ourselves.

So I took a little lunch break with my husband.

Seven weeks later, when I was two weeks late, I was pretty sure we could pinpoint that little rendezvous as the moment we conceived our first child.

Rico - 3 years

“You’re not going to break her,” Renzo told me as I hesitated to lift our grumbly daughter out of the incubator in the room while Lore helped Kick in the bathroom.

“She’s fucking tiny,” I said, watching as she wriggled hard against the tight straight jacket thing she was stuffed inside of.

I’d been close to her, had run a finger down her face, had stuck my finger in her little hand. But I hadn’t held her yet.

I tried to make it sound like it was because she needed to be close to Kick for feeding and shit like that. But the truth was, I was terrified to pick her up, sure I might crush or drop her simply because I had no idea what I was doing.

“Here,” Renzo said, scooping up my newborn, giving her a little rock to settle her, then pressing her against my chest, giving me no choice but to put my arms around her.

She weighed nothing.

I was pretty sure Evander was twice her weight, easy.

“Finally,” Kick said, making me look up to see her coming out of the bathroom taking shuffling steps with Lore holding her arm. “I was starting to worry she was going to think her Uncle Bass was her daddy.”

Yeah, I had to give Bastian credit, he had no fear.

He’d walked in a few hours after Kick delivered the baby, scooped her up, and started to tell her all the ways the two of them were going to make her parents’ lives more difficult. It was a plan that began with toys that sang and ended with a drum set. And, potentially, an entire litter of puppies.

I had no idea where his ease with kids came from since he, arguably, had spent less time with them than I had. But I was going to have to take a page out of his book and get comfortable with the delicateness.

Lore and Renzo excused themselves, having their own family to get back to, and I brought the baby over to the bed with Kick to nurse.

“She’s perfect,” Kick said.

“She gets that from you,” I said.

“I’m sitting here with ice panties on and two-day-old greasy hair,” she said, scrunching her nose up. “I’m far from perfect.”

That was where she was wrong.

Because lying there in the bed with our baby, I was pretty sure she’d never been more gorgeous.

Kick - 20 years

“Groin, knees, eyes, and nose,” Rico said.

“And it only takes six pounds of pressure to rip an ear clear off of the head,” Bastian piped in.

“Throat punch is always a good idea too,” Rico said.

“Mom!” Joss, our eldest daughter, yelled.

“What’s up?” I asked, pretending not to know what she was so annoyed about. Because while I empathized with her for having to deal with Rico and Bass at their most concerned, I had to admit that their overprotectiveness toward the girls was one of my favorite things about watching them around the girls.

Sure, that was probably me projecting since I’d never had anyone to try to protect me from a literal abuser, let alone just a first date with a boy who may or may not be respectful enough.

I felt for Joss, I did.

She was a young lady who’d had a healthy amount of boy craziness the past few years. And, being she was the prettiest thing, the boys were interested as well.

But she had a father who could and would literally rip off the arms of a boy who put their hands on her.

Not to mention her uncles.

And, perhaps worse yet, her aunts like Saff and Cinna.

“They’re doing it again,” Joss said, waving to Rico and Bass.

“We’re just reminding her the best ways to defend herself,” Bastian insisted.

“Uncle Bass, I’m literally a black belt. I could beat you up,” Joss said with a cocky little chin lift.

“You have your pocketknife and your mace, right?” I asked, glancing at her tiny purse.

“Really? From you too?” Joss asked, sighing.

“I want you to be safe,” I told her, tucking some of her brown hair behind her ear. Which she immediately untucked.

“I’m going to be at a coffee place in front of dozens of witnesses. And, I’m sure, Daddy will have half a dozen of his soldiers stationed from here to there.”

The way Rico reached up to rub the back of his neck told me that was true.

“Okay. Alright. We will leave you alone.”

“Do you have enough money?” Rico asked, reaching into his back pocket to hand her a wad of cash.

“You already gave me money,” Joss said. “And I have my own money,” she added, pulling her shoulders back.

Since school was out, she’d been working at the plant shop to make her own cash. Despite the fact that Rico was constantly throwing money at her.

“Well, here’s some more. For a cab,” he said, holding it out until she took it.

“This is two-hundred dollars. Where am I taking a cab? To Jersey? Oh, God,” she grumbled as Rico’s eyes widened. “I’m not! I’m staying right down the street.”

“Baby, go,” I said, waving toward the door, “before your father insists on chaperoning you.”

Joss rushed off, giving me a nervous smile before walking out into the hall.

“I don’t like this,” Rico declared.

“No stupid fucking eighteen-year-old boy is good enough for her,” Bass piped in.

“I mean, you have to give the kid credit for agreeing to take her out even with you two lunatics breathing down his neck, just looking for a reason to toss him in the Hudson,” I said.

“You’re not gonna date, right?” Rico asked as our middle daughter came walking into the living room, knocking her leg into an end table because she wouldn’t look up from her book.

“Boys in books are better,” Della said before dropping down on the couch in her cow-printed wearable blanket, hood up to cover her hair and half of her face.

“That’s right,” Rico said, nodding.

I went ahead and didn’t remind Rico what some of those boys in books and the girls in the books got up to in private moments.

But Della was a couple of years away from those books.

I hoped.

I had to make sure Saff wasn’t corrupting her yet.

“Daddy!” our youngest called, a sweet little cherub-faced eight-year-old. Stassy was our whoopsie-baby when we thought we were done having kids. Suddenly, I was even more thankful for her. She would help her father come to terms with Joss and Della growing up when he still had her innocence to cling to.

“Hey, Stass,” he said, plucking the painting from of her hands. “What’d you make me now?” he asked, turning the picture a few times, trying to figure it out for himself.

A mini-Picasso, she was not. But Rico always acted like she was a little savant.

“Joss’s wedding,” Stassie said, beaming at her father, no idea she’d just shot him through the heart.

“Stass,” Bastian said. “How about I take you and your sister out for some ice cream?” Bass asked.

“Yes!” Stassie cheered.

“Go get your shoes, baby,” I said, running a hand over her flyaway hair.

The promise of ice cream even got antisocial Della out of her wearable blanket, into shoes, and out the door with her uncle and baby sister.

“Dunno how he got over the whole Joss thing so easy,” Rico grumbled, staring at the closed door.

“Ah, Rico,” I said, walking over to run my hands up his stomach and chest then wrap them around his neck. “The ice cream shop is right across the street from the coffee place Joss and her date went to.”

“Oh, he’s a genius,” Rico decided.

“You’re gonna have to be okay with your girls dating,” I told him.

“No fucking way.”

“They’ll find their right people.”

“No such thing for my girls.”

“I found the right person,” I reminded him.

“You coulda done better too,” he said, giving me a little smile.

“No,” I said, leaning up to press my lips to his. “No, I really couldn’t have.”

XX

Acknowledgements

As always, to Fern for her eagle eyes and kind suggestions.

And also a thanks to Gabi, Ashley, Sonya, and Cherie for helping make this book shine.

IF YOU LIKED this book, check out these other series and titles in the NAVESINK BANK UNIVERSE:

The Navesink Bank Henchmen MC

Reign

Cash

Wolf

Repo

Duke

Renny

Lazarus

Pagan

Cyrus

Edison

Reeve

Sugar

The Fall of V

Adler

Roderick

Virgin

Roan

Camden

West

Colson

Henchmen MC Next Gen

Niro

Malcolm

Fallon

Rowe

Cary

Valen

Dezi

Voss

Seth

Finn

Brooks

Callow

The Savages

Monster

Killer

Savior

Mallick Brothers

For A Good Time, Call

Shane

Ryan

Mark

Eli

Charlie & Helen: Back to the Beginning

Investigators

367 Days

14 Weeks

4 Months

432 Hours

Dark

Dark Mysteries

Dark Secrets

Dark Horse

Professionals

The Fixer

The Ghost

The Messenger

The General

The Babysitter

The Middle Man

The Negotiator

The Client

The Cleaner

The Executioner

Rivers Brothers

Lift You Up

Lock You Down

Pull You In

Keep You Close

Grassi Family

The Woman at the Docks

The Women in the Scope

The Woman in the Wrong Place

The Woman from the Past

The Woman in Harm’s Way

The Woman with the Target on her Back

The Woman with the Warning

Golden Glades Henchmen MC

Huck

Che

McCoy

Remy

Seeley

Donovan

Cato

Alaric

Shady Valley Henchmen MC

Judge

Crow

Slash

Sway

Detroit

Riff

STANDALONES WITHIN NAVESINK BANK:

Vigilante

Grudge Match

The Rise of Ferryn

Counterfeit Love

Of Snakes and Men

The Survivor

Deja Brew

OTHER SERIES AND STANDALONES:

Stars Landing

What The Heart Needs

What The Heart Wants

What The Heart Finds

What The Heart Knows

The Stars Landing Deviant

What The Heart Learns

Surrogate

The Sex Surrogate

Dr. Chase Hudson

The Green Series

Into the Green

Escape from the Green

Seven Sins MC

The Sacrifice

The Healer

The Thrall

The Demonslayer

The Professor

Costa Family

The Woman in the Trunk

The Woman in the Back Room

The Woman with the Scar

The Woman on the Exam Table

The Woman with the Flowers

The Woman with the Secret

The Woman on the Jury

The Woman in the Woods

The Woman in the Warehouse

Lombardi Family

Love Him Like Water

Need Him Like Oxygen

Seek Him Like Shelter

Hold Him Like Gravity

DEBT

Dissent

Stuffed: A Thanksgiving Romance

Unwrapped

Peace, Love, & Macarons

A Navesink Bank Christmas

Don’t Come

Fix It Up

N.Y.E.

faire l’amour

Revenge

There Better Be Pie

Ugly Sweater Weather

I Like Being Watched

The Woman with the Ring

Love and Other Nightmares

Love in the Time of Zombies

Primal

Taming Scarlet

The Lazy Witch’s Guide to Vampires & Villainy

Under the pen name JGALA:

The Heir Apparent

The Winter Queen

Jessica Gadziala is the USA TODAY Bestselling author of over 100 steamy romance novels featuring all sorts of twisty and turny plots, strong heroines, lovable side characters, steam, and epic HEAs.

She lives in New Jersey with her parrots, dogs, rabbits, chickens, ducks, her bearded dragon named Ravioli, and way too many houseplants.

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