Nah. I’m not buying it. But it does beg the question: Who is running the district attorney’s office in this city now?
For once I wish Partridge was here, busting in like he always does so I could pin him to the wall and beat it out of him if I had to, even just to save me the hours… days of research I know I need to even begin to get my head around all this.
Even so soon after starting though, I decide I need a break. I lean back in my chair and suddenly notice the ringing in my ears.
It’s the sound of total silence.
Something we city folk never get unless we get out into nature. Even though I can hear a subtle, dull thud of waves on the rocks hundreds of feet below, there’s so much silence here it almost hurts to listen to it.
Even that safe house had constant noise, doors slamming, water pipes groaning, the non-stop hum of fluorescent lights and distant city traffic.
I wonder how Sophie’s doing, using her welfare as an excuse to go look in on her again. She’s in bed right where I left her, but I let out a low sound once I see her.
She obviously moves around in her sleep, a lot.
She’s scissored her legs between the sheets and rolled over onto her side, giving me a splendid view of her perfect ass, thighs and everything else I’ve been getting my fill of.
I don’t know what I did to deserve her, but I send a quiet thank you to whoever it is upstairs that runs this show.
My ‘break’ is almost a full blown distraction, with the sight of Sophie like that, ripe for the taking again, I have to exercise total control.
Swallowing hard, I feel my hard on catching on the door frame, making me groan, and Sophie stir in her sleep, her legs shifting.
The sound of the sheets, and her tinny whimpering is like a magnet.
In a second I’m kneeling by the bed, my apron hitched over my renewed hardness, already dripping for her all over again.
She smiles with her eyes shut, mews and goes back to sleep.
I stroke her hair back, kiss her forehead and wonder if I’ll ever be able to go out in public again. Wonder if I’ll ever be able to work again?
It feels like I have a permanent hard on now that I have Sophie.
No matter how many times I make love to her. Try as I might, I can’t function at anything else for more than just a few minutes without thinking about her, without having to go check on her to see if she needs anything.
I toss between trying to focus on work or a cold shower.
Cold shower wins, and I find it’s the one thing that clears my head for a few minutes at least. Passing her sleeping form again, I realize how hopeless it is though and in no time, I’m harder than when I started as I rub my eyes and face, trying to concentrate on work.
I help myself to Enrico’s wardrobe, which I assume is for guests. There’s a vast array of track pants, baggy sweaters, and tee shirts, which suits me perfectly.
Partridge is next on my list to check as far as emails go. He’s sent so many it’s making my eyes itch.
The most common and strangest thread in all of them, even the ones sent today?
Not once has he asked me where I am.
Even stranger, most were sent when he knew I had no access to emails at all.
Weird.
I flit between my own files and evidence research and more emails, cross-checking everything that confuses me with recent news reports that are credible or from government websites.
Missing so much news for such a short time really has put me out of touch with everything, and I’m starting to wonder if that was the whole idea of having me in that ‘safe house’ to begin with.
Safe for who? Me, the mob? Or the very people who were sworn to uphold the law they said they were protecting me for, so I could fight using it?
It is true, the De Falco family and other major crime syndicates in the city and all over have certainly stepped up their game. They’re in the news like white on rice, but no arrests.
Why?
I notice the time and although my bodily instinct is to go to bed, to curl up next to Sophie, I need to press on with all this.
Coffee beckons.
Closing the hallway doors, I grind some beans and put a fresh pot on, again grateful for Enrico’s hospitality.
This place is amazing, I could live in a place like this without question.
I help myself to some cold meat and left over potato skins with guacamole and pour a large mug of coffee before settling back down to my work.
The sound of the doors opening makes me spin around.
It’s Sophie, rubbing sleep from her eyes, dressed only in a tee shirt asking why I started breakfast without her.
I reach for her as she moves closer, setting her on my knee. She smiles sleepily as my tent pole does its usual thing but having her on my lap half naked? What does she expect?
I tell her it’s still late, that I just made coffee to keep working.
“What can I do to help?” she asks, helping herself to my mug and taking a long sip.
I feel my animal instinct rising again, but shake my head as I realize, Sophie’s the worst help ever when it comes to actual work. All I want to do is screw her brains out every time she’s near me.
But her eyes on mine are clear, genuine. She really wants to help.
“Pants would be a start,” I observe, letting my hand slide up far enough to touch her still wet nakedness with my fingers, making her shiver and giggle.
Her chest bounces and I grab that too.
“Alright, alright!” she concedes. “I can either get dressed or go back to bed and leave you to it, is that what you mean?” she asks.
“I love you Sophie,” I tell her in reply, it’s the only thing I can think of now, probably every time I see her.
Pecking my cheek, she reaffirms what I already know, but will never tire of hearing, she loves me too.
Her eyes narrow and her mouth tightens though once her keen eyes catch the one name on my email list I still have highlighted.
“And just why are you getting emails from that crooked DA?” she asks, hooking her arms around my neck, leaning in closer with an inquisitor’s gaze.
I breathe loudly through my nose. “I’m wondering the exact same thing, to be honest,” I tell her.
I figure Sophie will be mad if I tell her the DA wants to meet, in person.
But she thinks hard for a moment when I tell her that’s what it’s all about.
“If you do, I’m going with you,” is all she says, not sounding jealous, but as intrigued as I am.
“That cop’s daughter instinct?” I ask her, concerned when she nods so quickly.
“Oh yeah,” she says firmly. “That woman is up to something, and we both need to find out what it is.”
Chapter Nineteen
Sophie
Ben sounds like he doesn’t want me to go, but at the same time, I don’t think he wants to set himself up with a meeting with a crooked District Attorney either.
I wished I followed the news more lately, I might be able to fill Ben in more, but I’ve been looking for ways to feed myself and keep a roof over my head.
I haven’t asked dad for help since moving out of home and it’s been tougher than I thought.
Might sound a little selfish, but my own problems have eclipsed local, even world events lately.
Not my problem if millionaire criminals are having a hard time of it, for whatever reasons.
I remind Ben that if he does go anywhere, even to the end of the driveway, then I’m going with him.
The sound of my phone makes us both jump, even though it’s all the way up in the bedroom.
“Get it,” he says. “But come back here. Keep any open line to under a minute. I think that still works against a trace,” he says, urging me to go ahead and get my phone, even though it’s stopped ringing.
“They’ll call back. I know they will,” he says gravely, puffing out air from his cheeks as I jog up to get my phone.
Wa
lking back, I can see it’s my dad who was calling.
It rings again, still making me jump even though I know who it is.
I press answer but don’t speak. After today, who knows what’s what anymore?
It is my dad though, and despite Ben wanting me to come closer to him to sit I remain standing.
“Honey? I just need to know you’re safe, that’s all,” he says. His voice calm, controlled. Relieved even.
Not the mood from him I was expecting at all, but I still can’t bring myself to speak a word.
A flash to memories from meeting Ben up to this moment race across my mind until I can only feel a single, hot tear running down my cheek.
The two worlds of Ben and my dad are so different. I really believed if I just ignored it, I could keep them separate.
Impossible, given the current situation, regardless of Ben and me. Our relationship.
Us.
Ben moves to get up, breaking my reverie but I hold my hand up in silent protest.
“I’m fine, Dad,” I hear myself say, sounding so casual, almost bored that even Ben looks alarmed.
My dad makes a sound, like a dry croak followed by a stifled gasp.
I know instantly that he’s been crying, that he’s more wound up than he’s letting on.
“I’m not calling to tell you what to do or to find out where you are,” he continues. “I just need you to tell me you’re safe.”
I feel a rush of anxiety, suddenly remembering what Ben said about staying on the phone for too long.
I think about how my dad’s talking right now. Slowly, like he’s dragging this out.
Any other day of the week he would have yelled a million things at me in two seconds, no matter how upset he was.
“Dad. I’m fine, I’m safe. You need to check that DA though… and that agent, Partridge. I think they’re both so far into the mafia business they don’t know which set of shoes to put on each morning,” I hear myself saying firmly before I hang up.
I switch the phone off too for good measure. Something Ben admits I probably should have done after De Falco called.
“You don’t trust your dad?” Ben asks, looking like he might have had too much coffee already, which makes me laugh.
“I do, I think,” I tell him. “But this whole day, your whole story is making me doubt everything,” I admit.
“Who can we trust?” he muses softly, glancing over at me, then at his lap.
I scoot over to him, purring as I sink into his warm and hard muscular body.
“Each other,” I whisper. “We can trust each other,” I tell him, and his look of relief and fatigue tells me that maybe it’s time for bed after all.
“I can’t,” Ben groans, clutching his temples as he reads my thoughts, feels my hips starting to make circles as I grind down onto his lap.
“I timed your call,” he admits. “Roughly, so I can’t be a hundred percent sure, but I’d say; like De Falco, if they wanted to trace that call’s location they probably could have,” he says with some conviction.
“What should we do then?” I ask, more wondering than asking. “Maybe it is best to reach out to the law first and the criminals second?” I suggest, knowing full well they could both be the same right now.
“I hate to say it, but I have to agree with you, Sophie. If only for your safety.”
“And what about your safety!” I cry, suddenly more emotional than ever, remembering how those bastards went to his rooms, determined to kill him.
Ben holds me close, like a wounded bird.
He rocks me slowly and neither of us says a word for a long time, not until I’ve calmed down.
“I could hold you all night, Sophie. Every night,” he tells me, stroking my hair again as I hear myself sniffle back tears.
Sniffle back all the pain at the thought of losing him, if anything ever happened to him.
My Ben.
“We’re pretty close to the border, y’know,” he jokes.
I know he means Mexico. We’re thousands of miles away, it would take days of driving, even nonstop.
I chuckle softly, shaking my head as he makes his brows dance for me, cheering me up.
“Think about it. We could have a similar beach, maybe… but not such a nice house,” he teases me. I punch his rock hard abs softly, making him fake a groan of agony.
“How much have you got? We could leave tonight,” he adds, and we both laugh for a while, but it’s no use.
We both know it’s more serious than that.
“I do have contacts, Sophie,” he says, blowing that dulled warm coal back to life. “We could if you really wanted… and money? I got that too,” he promises, his hand gripping me so tight I almost agree on the spot.
But then again, we both sink back.
He has his job to do. To get his justice. That’s what I know makes Ben Slade tick. Not just money.
Not anymore.
And me? I’m too tied to the idea of trying to make it on my own, away from my police superintendent dad, but I know he wouldn’t let me leave the country, let alone for good with Ben Slade.
Can we just have tonight? Just the two of us?
I know we can’t now, we already had our day in the sun and I slept through half of it.
We sit just holding each other, and I know neither of us wants to move in case it brings on something else.
In case some more of the world out there tries to force its way in. Past the incredible silence I’m suddenly aware of.
“It’s so quiet, isn’t it?” Ben asks, reading my own mind.
“Mexico’s quiet?” I ask, trying to be funny again, but we both fall silent as I sense the one question, the one thing I know would make me go with him tonight if he’d only ask.
It’s not my phone, but Ben’s email that pings this time that breaks the moment.
Before either of us looks at the screen of his laptop, we hold each other’s gaze for a moment longer, telling the other everything we can’t with just words.
I feel a part of me break loose. Gone forever.
The old me sloughs off like a hunk of ice, cracking free and slipping into endlessly deep waters as I realize that Ben is my world now, and I’m his.
We understand one another without words, just a feeling that’s come from a bond that we both know can never be broken.
No matter what happens.
Ben’s hand moves to close his laptop, but I stop him, urging him with my eyes to keep it open, for him to do what he has to do.
“No matter what,” I remind him and lean in just long enough to kiss him so he knows I mean it.
“If it’s this late it might be important,” I tell him. “Isn’t this the only way they can reach you?” I add.
He nods slowly, groaning under his breath but opening his email.
I hop off his lap, not wanting to be a complete snoop, but linger close by, suddenly wide awake.
If Ben’s not taking me back to bed then I want to be here for him, to do what I can to help in other ways.
God, if only dad wasn’t such a jerk sometimes, I could call him up and ask him for his help. He has an entire police force at his disposal.
And that Partridge guy, where the heck is he in all this?
My own overactive imagination starts to run away from me, but Ben motions me over, breaking the spell.
“It’s Partridge, again,” he muses. I scan the open email myself and get the gist.
“The DA wants back in on protective custody… for real this time,” Ben says with some satisfaction.
I caught that much, but I’m not sure I follow completely.
“Ever hear the story of the DA who cried wolf?” he asks me with a grin which disappears as he considers his position in all this.
“Like me, the mafia promised her a whole lot if she did what they wanted. And she did. She directed them straight to me and no doubt, held up as many cases against them as she could using her position.”
“And then what?”
I ask, leaning closer, needing to know more.
Ben shrugs.
“Then they got what they wanted and were most likely going to kill her… but somehow she got away. Now she needs help. Real help. She tested the waters with me earlier in her other email but now I know she’s at her wits end if she’s gone to the Feds, she’s confessed her part in everything. See for yourself.”
Ben leans back, still looking a little smug and I guess I can see why once I read how his so called superior was the one who’s been setting him up for the past few months.
Partridge got Ben into protective custody just in time by the looks, but Miss Fellini faked her own drama, requesting the same level of protection and somehow managed to land right across the hall from Ben which she dutifully reported to the De Falco family once she found out.
Sneaky.
“What a bitch,” I exclaim dryly, not wanting her anywhere near my Ben ever again.
“So what now?” I ask, glad to see Ben cheerful about one thing at least from all this.
He cocks his ear, there’s a banging sound from down in the garden, I only noticed it as the wind’s picked up coming in off the ocean.
“How ‘bout you go close the greenhouse? Enrico will hold me accountable if anything happens to those plants,” he says with mock authority.
“I’ll tell Partridge to come get us. I think he’s on the level. He has the DA in custody. I’ll unlock the gates and meet you back here for a little midnight snack while we wait?” he suggests with a grin, forcing my hand onto his crotch and making me suck air in sharply, weak in the knees already at the thought.
Chapter Twenty
Ben
It’s a secure email server, Government Issue so I figure I’m safe enough in replying to Partridge to come get us both.
I can’t fight the whole mafia on my own, Enrico was right. And I can’t go around thinking everyone’s out to get me either.
Sophie puts some pants on before I watch her from behind, blowing out air again as I watch her sweet ass toddle down the steps to the greenhouse.
Partridge replies almost instantly, they’ll send a chopper, which I think is a little overboard but fair enough.
Maid For The Mafia Informant: An Instalove Possessive Alpha Romance Page 10
