Bella couldn’t help but let her gaze wander down to where she could see a visible bulge at the front of his jeans. “You’re commando?”
He shrugged. “Keeps down on the amount of washing.”
It was also hot as hell to imagine that there was only that layer of denim between her and touching Bryce’s cock. A long and thick cock she had felt and could now see pressing against that confining material.
“What sort of relationship was it?”
Bella blinked, realizing it wasn’t wise, however briefly, to wander off subject where Bryce was concerned.
“Bella, you came to me initially, remember?” he reminded when she didn’t answer.
She nodded. “And I’ve since decided that was a mistake.”
He smiled without humor. “That’s too bad, because I’ve since decided I’m really interested in knowing what happens next.”
“I’m sure it’s just kids—”
“And as I said, you don’t know that,” Bryce scorned. “Were you and this ex-boyfriend intimate?”
Her cheeks flushed, whether with indignation or embarrassment, Bella wasn’t sure. “Mind your own damned business!”
Bryce breathed heavily down his nose. “Okay, we’ll return to that subject later.” But he was determined they would return to it. “Tell me what the bastard spray-painted on your car instead.”
She breathed out shakily. “Maybe I should show you rather than tell you.” She turned to walk back through the house and into the utility room to the door that opened straight into the garage where her car was parked. A two-car garage. This was also a four-bedroom detached house in a nice part of London, and tastefully decorated and furnished.
Not the sort of house Bella could have bought on a junior policewoman’s pay.
Nice as the house was, the small black car sitting in the lit garage didn’t quite fit in with the middle-class, wealthy neighborhood.
The words “Die Bitch” spray-painted in neon yellow on the side of it were even more out of place.
“I’ve seen enough.” Bryce turned and walked back into the house. He scowled. “It’s time for you to come clean.”
Bella eyed him warily. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He frowned his impatience. “After my brother looked for your address on the police database, he went on to check for more information on Bella Smith.”
The color drained from her cheeks. “He had no right—”
“Haydn discovered that Bella Smith, your Bella Smith, didn’t exist until eight years ago,” Bryce continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “At which time, she opened a bank account with an initial deposit of one million pounds, bought this house, and enrolled at university.” His challenging gaze met her furious one. “Do you have yourself a wealthy lover to supplement the pittance you receive as a policewoman?”
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
He shrugged. “I’m told it can be very lucrative for the lady.”
“I do not have a wealthy lover, nor do I want one,” she stated firmly, eyes flashing a deep blue. “And how dare you have your brother look into my private affairs?”
“Background checks are standard procedure for Steele Protectors,” he dismissed. “It’s vital that we know all we can about the people who ask for our help, as well as the reason they came to see us.”
She wrapped her arms about her waist in what looked like a totally defensive gesture. “I didn’t ask for your help.”
“Isn’t that the reason you’ve been looking for me this past week?”
Bella straightened. “Once I’d found you, I decided you weren’t the man I needed after all.” She was deliberately insulting. “I’d like you to leave now.”
“And what happens the next time something even worse is put through your letter box?” he taunted. “Think you’ll be able to explain it to your neighbors if the cat I saw in their garden on my way in ends up dead on your doorstep tomorrow morning with its throat cut?”
Her cheeks became even paler. “Surely they wouldn’t hurt Max?” she gasped.
“Depends who ‘they’ are.”
If Bella knew that for certain, then maybe she would be able to put a stop to all this.
There were several options as to who could be responsible, and for totally different reasons.
It could be Detective Sean Wilton, the man she had been out with a couple of times. He hadn’t taken it well when she refused a fourth date. From the heated things Sean had said to her at the time, and since he was the one who always “dumped” the woman, not the other way round. Belatedly, he seemed like the sort of man who might want revenge for this blow to his ego.
Or it could be her brother, trying to frighten her into moving back home. He’d never made it a secret he believed that was where she belonged. But on his terms, of course.
Last was the possibility Matteo had upset someone, and, having discovered Bella was his sister, they were taking payback by using her.
Unfortunately, the second two options weren’t ones Bella could confide in Bryce without first revealing who she had been before Bella Smith came into existence eight years ago.
“So who are you really, Bella Smith?” Bryce demanded to know.
Bella was no longer completely sure of the answer to that question.
Chapter Three
It hadn’t been easy growing up as the daughter of the head of the Italian Mafia in London.
Bella hadn’t even been aware that’s who she was until she went away to boarding school aged ten. Apart from those school bullies who weren’t deterred by the Zalotti name, most of the other girls either stayed well away from Bella because they knew who her family was, or they did the opposite, which meant they toadied and fawned over her. Again because of who her family was, but for a different reason.
Her last year of school had become even more difficult after Bella’s mother and father had been gunned down in a restaurant shortly after Bella’s seventeenth birthday. Franco Ricci, the man Bella called Uncle Franco even though he wasn’t related by blood but had always been her father’s right-hand man, had stepped up to help Matteo in the transition of taking over as head of the “family.” As far as she was aware, the older man was still there, at Matteo’s side.
Matteo also became Bella’s guardian until she was eighteen, and had insisted on providing bodyguards for her at the school. Bella had understood his concerns after the way they had lost their parents, but those bodyguards ripped away any chance of her having a normal end-of-school life.
So much so that Bella had come to a decision by the end of that year of Matteo’s stifling guardianship. A decision that had infuriated her brother as much as it had displeased Franco Ricci.
She no longer wished to be known as Isabella Zalotti.
Matteo had been furious when she legally changed her name before starting university, along with refusing to accept any further protection he wanted to provide and which Bella knew would continue to draw attention to her.
They had seen each other rarely during the three years she was away at university.
As for when she informed him three years later that she had no intention of using her degree to help the “family” but had already been accepted as a trainee at the police academy…
Matteo had disowned her completely.
That had hurt so soon after losing her parents, but it was a price Bella had always known she might have to pay for following the career she had set her heart on. A career that wouldn’t have even started if she maintained the Zalotti name.
The Zalotti men had ruled the Italian Mafia in London for three generations, her grandfather, father, and now her brother. Bella doubted any of them even cared how many bodies there had been during those years, let alone where they were buried. No doubt her Uncle Franco knew, though.
She somehow doubted Bryce would be impressed by Bella’s claim her parents had protected her from ever being a part of that life. Whether she had known or been involved or not, her childhood and teen years had all be
en financed by the Zalotti money. Money that, as far as Bella was concerned, had blood on it. The fact she hadn’t touched a penny of that money since she was eighteen and had taken over the inheritance left to her by her maternal grandmother could never change what had come before.
She doubted Bryce was aware of any of that yet, or he would have already said so—he’d had no problem demonstrating, repeatedly, how painfully honest he was after they met again this morning—but no doubt it was only a matter of time until he knew all there was to know about Bella Smith and Isabella Zalotti.
“How good a hacker is your brother Haydn?” Bella prompted.
“The best,” Bryce confirmed. “There isn’t a database he can’t hack into or a secret he can’t unearth. No matter how deeply it’s buried,” he warned softly.
Exactly what Bella had thought his answer would be.
If Bryce had thought he would unnerve Bella with his claim of Haydn’s computer skills, then he was disappointed. She had looked more upset by his comment about Max the cat being the next victim.
And yet there was something there. A definite show of cracks forming in her armor.
Her cheeks had paled when he’d told her he knew she, as Bella Smith, hadn’t existed until eight years ago.
She also seemed to have some idea, if not know specifically, who it was that might have put the dead rat and panties through her letter box and spray-painted her car.
Then there was the way her thoughts had instantly gone inwards after he had asked her who she really was.
None of those things were damning in themselves, but put them all together, along with that knowledge her name hadn’t been Bella Smith until eight years ago, and Bryce had himself a mystery that needed solving. Sooner rather than later.
“Bella—”
“Until eight years ago, my name was Isabella Zalotti.”
Bryce’s head reared back. “As in Zalotti, the London Italian Mafia?”
“As in,” she confirmed tightly, body tense and chin held defensively high as she waited for him to continue.
“You’re related to Matteo Zalotti?”
“His younger and only sister.”
“Jesus…” Bryce certainly hadn’t seen that one coming. “He’s the brother who disowned you?”
“Yes.”
“Because instead of using your degree for the benefit of the family, you joined the police force?”
She gave a humorless laugh. “I’m sure the irony of that isn’t lost on you.”
“Well, I can certainly understand why your brother considered it a conflict of interest.” Bryce was pretty sure Matteo Zalotti would see it as a being a lot more than that.
Her chin rose. “I’ve never been included in a case that involved Matteo or his associates.”
Bryce shook his head. “It’s surely only a matter of time until you are.” The Italian was one ruthless son of a bitch and must be pulling his hair out at having his sister become a part of the law enforcement he and his associates did everything to avoid.
And if Haydn was as good as Bryce thought he was—and he knew he was—then his brother was either very close to finding out that truth or he already had it.
Right on cue, Bryce’s cell vibrated with an incoming message.
One Bryce really didn’t need to take out his cell phone and read to know what it said, but decided to do so anyway, if only to give himself a few extra seconds’ breathing room to get his thoughts together.
Yep, as Bryce had thought, Haydn’s message read: Bella Smith is Isabella Zalotti, sister of Matteo Zalotti. The message didn’t stop there. Haydn had added the sentence: If I know that after just a few hours of searching, then someone else can find out exactly the same information as easily.
His brother didn’t stipulate who might be interested in that information, but it really didn’t matter when Bryce already knew that “someone else” was out to frighten Bella, at the very least. Putting panties soaked in semen through her letter box was just plain nasty, but a rat with its throat cut meant the situation could escalate and that whoever was doing those things might eventually decide to do something a lot more than disgust or frighten Bella.
Bryce slipped his mobile back into his jeans pocket. “Haydn has just confirmed that’s who you are.”
Her mouth twisted. “It’s hardly something I would claim if it wasn’t the truth.”
He shrugged. “Some women might enjoy the notoriety.”
“Then they would be idiots.” Bitterness edged her voice.
“The million pounds in your bank account—”
“Was an inheritance left to me by my maternal grandmother,” she defended. “Her family was in oil in Texas. It has nothing to do with the Zalotti money.”
Bryce held his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t say it did.”
Bella gave an impatient shake of her head. “No, you preferred to think I had a sugar daddy.”
He shrugged. “It’s a more logical explanation than the truth.”
As if Bella was the kept woman type.
More worrying, she had spent the last eight years trying to distance herself from the Zalotti name and reputation, and Bryce’s brother had discovered the truth within a few hours of looking. The fact that he had, along with these incidents of the past week, threw the life Bella had made for herself into turmoil. So much so, she was no longer sure she could continue to be Bella Smith.
She needed time to think, to consider her options. “I think you should leave,” she told Bryce wearily.
“I’d agree with you.” He nodded. “If it wasn’t for the semen-soaked panties, the dead rat, and the spray-painted car.”
“Kids—”
“Do not go to the trouble of finding a pair of panties that look like the ones you wear just so they can jack off all over them. Same goes for capturing and then cutting a rat’s throat. I’d give you the spray-painting of your car if not for the words written on it. It’s all too personal, Bella,” he insisted as she would have protested. “Which is why I now need the name of your ex-lover,” he added grimly.
Her eyes widened. “He was not my lover!”
“No?”
“No,” she snapped. “We went out precisely three times, and on none of those occasions did we have sex.”
“Good to know,” he drawled.
Her gaze was guarded. “And I know Sean can be an idiot, but he wouldn’t do something like this.”
“The idiot part is confirmed by the fact he didn’t manage to get into your bed.”
Her brows rose. “Are you paying me a compliment?”
“I’m merely questioning your ex-boyfriend’s sanity.”
“Sounded like a compliment to me.”
“Knock yourself out. Sean who?” he demanded.
Bella gave a self-disgusted frown for having revealed that much. “He didn’t do this.”
“You can either give me his full name now, or I’ll have Haydn look into it. How hard can it be for someone like Haydn to retrace your steps from a few months ago?”
She sighed heavily, knowing Bryce was right. “His name is Sean Wilton. Detective Inspector Sean Wilton.”
Bryce’s eyes narrowed. “Superior officer?”
“Yes.”
“Who finished with whom?”
“I ended it.”
“Why?”
“Besides the fact he’s my superior officer—”
“Which hadn’t bothered you until then.”
“—it wasn’t working out between us,” Bella continued doggedly.
“In what way?”
Her chin rose. “In ways that matter.”
“No sex, huh?” he speculated.
“I have no intention of discussing my sex life with you!”
“You already told me the two of you didn’t have any sex.” His grin was knowing before it faded. “Out of curiosity, were you and he involved last month when I asked for, and you gave me, your cell phone number?”
“No.” Bella glared.
“No matter what else you might now choose to think about me, you can cross being a two-timer off the list.”
Bryce studied her through narrowed lids. “What else might I choose to think of you?”
“I believe my family name says it all.” Bella told herself not to cry. She wouldn’t. Couldn’t. She had cried enough tears after her parents died and then Matteo disowned her. Had spent the past eight years making a life for herself outside her family.
Except…
Within just a few minutes, Bryce and his brother Haydn had stripped her of all she had spent so many years building.
Did these recent incidents mean that someone else also knew exactly who Bella Smith was or had been?
“Does it?” he questioned. “Admittedly, your father was a coldhearted bastard, and your brother has become known as an even bigger one, but that doesn’t make you one too.”
Bella opened her mouth to defend her father and brother and then closed it again. Opened it. Closed it again.
“Max got your tongue?” Bryce taunted.
“You don’t pull your punches, do you,” she finally murmured heavily.
He gave a rueful shake of his head. “I already told you, I prefer the truth, no matter what it might be, to any amount of lies.”
Bella eyed him uncertainly. “Now that you’re over your initial shock, you certainly seem calm enough about who my family really is.”
“It isn’t for me to judge.”
She snorted. “Most other people wouldn’t agree with you.”
“I recently became good friends with the guy who heads security for the head of Russian bratva in London.”
She gasped. “Nikolai Volkov?”
Bryce nodded. “You know him?”
“Not personally, no, but I grew up with my father telling Matteo and me who all the players were in the London underworld. Gregori Markovic took over from his father as head of the bratva some years ago, and Nikolai Volkov is his right-hand man as well as head of his security.”
“Did you know Nikolai is also very happily married and has a couple of kids?”
“No.”
“Well, he is, and he adores his wife and their two children. His wife, Daisy, as it turns out, is the younger sister of a couple of my ex-army buddies.”
Bryce (Steele Protectors 3) Page 3
