by C. A. Szarek
Gio couldn’t breathe.
That look, this woman was what’d been missing from his life for eight long years.
He had to pant to get air down.
Gio shot up her body because he needed her in his arms. Burned to have her entire length against his. His cock was so hard it ached, but he didn’t give a shit.
“Gio…” Maddie whispered, burying her face against his neck as soon her breasts touched his pecs.
He couldn’t bear to have her face hidden. He cupped her cheeks and tilted up.
Gio stared into her eyes, still heavy lidded and dark amber with desire. Dipping down, he took her mouth and kissed her until his air was restricted again.
Until his chest was even tighter.
Couldn’t put his finger on why; whether it was physical or mental. All he knew was if he didn’t get Maddie closer, if he didn’t hold her, kiss her, he’d not survive the night.
Chapter Eleven
The dreaded morning after.
Maddie’s guilt was a live wire, snaking around her spine and threatening electrocution.
She didn’t want to look at him, so it was a damn good thing when he’d kissed her after one cup of coffee and told her he needed to go home before they both headed to the PD.
It was Friday, and she told herself she only had to endure one workday being around him. They wouldn’t work over the weekend, unless something really broke with the case.
She wouldn’t allow herself to think of the next two days alone in her apartment.
Gio was definitely not invited. They couldn’t have a repeat of last night.
She needed to tell him about their son.
Inspectors Griggs and Bailey should be in today at some point. They were trying to get a search warrant signed by a federal judge, since Maddie had put together all the probable cause affidavits from the info they had via FBI reports, IRS tax info, and the legwork she’d done. Whether the judge would agree they had enough evidence was a tossup. If not, they’d do more work and try again, but she’d been thorough on her PC paperwork.
Maddie stared at the door closed in Gio’s wake. It was still early. She had enough time to shower and actually do her hair.
Everything was strange. This was her place, but it didn’t feel like it. He’d been back in her bed, like no time had passed. She was back in Sin City, the City of Lights, a place she’d never wanted to be.
The night in his arms had her thinking…wanting.
That was more dangerous than a shootout.
Back in Chicago, she’d dreaded seeing him again, and now what had she done?
Met him one day, fucked him the next—almost as bad as when she’d first gotten together eight years ago.
Ugh. Resistance is futile, and all that.
He’d kissed her awake at 5:30 but they hadn’t had sex. He’d touched her, tasted her again, then held her.
So tender.
She’d wanted to reciprocate—this man was the only one who’d ever brought out the urge to give a blowjob, but he’d stopped her. Told her she didn’t have to, and he wanted to shower before she did that. A sweet sentiment, but it hadn’t mattered.
Maddie had capitulated and just let him hold her, but after rocking her world with his mouth, that just put her heart in more peril. She’d drifted back to sleep, but Gio had woken her gently and told her he had to go.
After the coffee, he had.
She’d assumed he’d shower at her place, but he’d said he wanted fresh clothes.
Why was she mourning his departure as much as she felt guilty for still not telling him about Jake?
It should’ve been the first thing to leave her lips that morning.
Hell, it should’ve been the first thing she’d said in the storage room on day one. Or the first time she’d seen him in the hallway.
“Ugh,” Maddie whispered and gripped the steaming coffee mug with both hands. She needed to get her ass moving instead of wading in sorrow and guilt at her kitchen table.
Her son’s smile kept flashing in her mind, making her feel worse. It was Gio’s lopsided grin in miniature.
She hadn’t exactly forgotten what the man looked like over the past eight years, but not seeing him in person had dimmed the reality of how much her little guy resembled his dad.
“Damn.” That just made the wallowing even worse, like she was in the swamps up to her torso, fighting not to drown.
She closed her eyes, sucked in much-needed air, and shoved the chair back.
Maddie should really capitalize on the rare quiet-time because when Jake and Jamie moved in, there would be no such thing.
Quiet made her…think.
Remember.
Compare sex with Gio back then to what’d happened last night.
God, there is no comparison.
He was better. Wine clichés were usually reserved for describing women, but Gio had aged like a fine wine.
She smiled in spite of the negative feelings warring with the good. Didn’t regret being with him. “But it can’t happen again.”
Maybe saying it out loud would make her believe it.
Maddie scoffed at herself as she went back to her bedroom. She could still smell him there, in the air. She didn’t dare sniff the sheets, because he’d be there, too.
Healthy male, aftershave, the musk of sex, and something that was just Gio; something she’d never forgotten.
Who was she kidding; when she finally managed to tell him about Jake, he’d probably be so pissed she’d have to savor last night. Because he’d never touch her again.
He was a good man, so he’d likely want to be involved in their son’s life, and that was okay, but she wouldn’t blame him if he needed time before dealing with her. Away from her. He’d probably rage at her, and she wouldn’t blame him for that, either.
Her shower was quick, and she had to squeeze her thighs against the ache in her sex. It was a cross between pleasant and accusatory.
She’d have nothing to say if Gio demanded, “how could you?” when she finally told him about their son, and when he wanted to know why she’d slept with him before revealing the truth.
Because I’m an asshole, was all she had.
Damn, she was stupid.
So so so stupid.
Fuck my life, was pretty much her new mantra.
If only she could shut her brain off—or leave it at home.
“Damn, get over yourself.” Maddie shook her head, making her pony tail tickle the back of her neck. She’d nixed the idea of doing her hair; it would only bother her later when she was poring over financials.
She and Foster had made it further than planned the day before. They would continue on, and she could conveniently ignore Gio like before. She wouldn’t have to look at him if she was busy, right?
Ugh, you’re getting more pathetic by the minute.
“Just take your pathetic ass to work. Woman up.” She slammed her apartment door, earning a raised eyebrow from a neighbor retrieving a newspaper down the hall, and her ears burned.
Sure, make them all think the new chick is weird.
The five minute drive was uneventful, but the Ducati was already in the parking lot when she pulled up.
Maddie’s heart battled her stomach for supremacy.
How was she supposed to function all day long?
Her vertebrae were bound to pop out of her back and abandon her. Sweat dotted her brow, but her palms were clammy.
She swallowed—twice. Then a third time, and was suddenly grateful she’d not consumed more than coffee.
“Good morning, Inspector!”
She jumped and cursed when the stocky Hispanic detective came up beside her.
Maddie must’ve been transparent, because Garcia’s expression was immediately contrite. He reached for her forearm to steady her. “I’m sorry; didn’t mean to startle you.”
“I was just lost in thought.” She laughed, but it sounded like a nervous titter to her ears.
His smile was easy
and genuine, and somehow it made her like him even more than she had when she’d met him. He was so damn personable.
“It happens. Rough morning?”
“It’s okay, I could use more coffee, and maybe some breakfast.”
“Oh? Late night?”
Maddie startled, as if this guy could read her mind, and her cheeks heated. One thought of sex and Gio had mini earthquakes going off in all her unmentionable places. She squeezed her thighs before she fell into step with the man. “Yeah, just moved into my place and I was unpacking.”
“Ah, if you need any help—”
“Oh, that’s nice of you, but I’m good.” Her ears crackled with fire.
She’d never be able to look at Gio without combusting, and being paranoid everyone would know they’d had a lot of sex the night before.
Stop. It’s not like you’re wearing a sign.
“Well, I mean it. If you need help, gimme a holler.” Garcia scooted around her and put his keycard against the sensor, then grabbed the long handle and held the frosted glass panel open. He gave a half-bow and smiled again.
“Thanks.” Maddie told herself not to read into his behavior. He wasn’t like the leering captain; he was just being a nice guy. He was on her team, after all.
They chatted on the way to the conference room, about inane things, but at least that helped her gain her bearings. She hoped her face wasn’t as red as an overripe tomato.
She felt eyes on her even before the detective repeated his earlier behavior and urged her to enter their investigation headquarters in front of him.
Gio’s blue gaze seared her from across the room, instead of focusing on his computer screen. His focus moved to his colleague, and back at her. He flexed his jaw, like he was bothered she’d walked in with Garcia.
Maddie arched an eyebrow, but Garcia snagged her attention again.
“There’re bagels and donuts over there, Inspector. Breakfast awaits.” He winked, and gestured like Vanna.
She couldn’t help her smile. He was charming. “Call me Maddie,” she said as she made her way to the food.
“Oh, sure…Maddie.” Garcia returned her smile. She could see how most women would think him handsome, despite his lack of height.
He was stocky, but the bulk was muscle, and he had a trimmed goatee. His skin was a natural bronze, a testament to his heritage. His fitted black button-down was a bit tight around his biceps and pecs, hinting at a chiseled physique under the fabric. The same could be said of his khaki’s, hugging what had to be toned thick thighs and a nice high ass. Hector Garcia was…cute.
The detective grabbed a jelly donut and offered another grin as he took a bite and retreated, going to conference with Detective Foster, who was already studying some of the reports the FBI had filed and shared with the Marshal Service.
Before Maddie could spread the cream cheese on the cinnamon raisin bagel, she felt a blast of warmth at her back. She didn’t have to turn around to know Gio stood too close for comfort, but why the hell was he hovering over her…at work?
She should yell at him.
“Maddie, huh?”
There was a sneer in his inquiry but his handsome face was placid when she met his eyes over her shoulder.
She offered him the same arched eyebrow as before. “Yes, that’s my name. And we’ll be working closely.”
He smirked. “How closely?”
That same heat slowly crept up the back of her neck again, and Maddie instantly regretted the intentional tease. She was pretty transparent when it came to Gio—hated to admit that—and she really didn’t want the rest of their team to see it.
“Inspector Granger!”
The shout saved her from having to endure her former-turned current-lover’s response. Whatever it might’ve been.
Thank. God.
All eyes landed on the two people in the doorway.
Senior Investigators Griggs and Bailey had finally arrived.
The male marshal from her former office held up a piece of paper. “We got a search warrant.”
****
Gian’s phone rang, and when he took it out of his breast-pocket of his favorite dove-gray Armani suit, he frowned at the screen. The number wasn’t in his contacts, but the area code was familiar.
Chicago.
With a swipe of his thumb, he put the cell to his ear. “Yeah.”
“Listen to me.” Uncle Dino’s voice was commanding, urgent.
“Why are you calling me at this number?” Irritation inched up his spine, and he crossed his office in The Giovanni executive suites in two strides, closing the glass door.
No one was around, since it was still about thirty minutes before the admin support staff were scheduled to come in, but he didn’t want to take any chances. He’d left Elise asleep in their huge bed earlier than normal, because he’d hoped for another go at Big Tony’s office. He’d been about to head there.
“You know better than to call me on this phone.”
“Tried the other number. You didn’t answer.”
Yeah, he didn’t keep the burner phone on him, in case Elise might see and become suspicious of him having more than one cell. It was in his personal safe in their penthouse, and she even didn’t know he had the secret lockbox. It also held his stash of passports, a few identities, getaway cash and two weapons.
He’d hoped to never need them.
“Get the fuck out of the casino. Now.”
“What? Why?” Paranoia skimmed over his limbs. Gian darted his eyes around.
The offices all had glass walls and doors, and most of the lights were dimmed or off. He was alone, but his legs tingled and he fought the urge to run.
“Got some intel this morning. The feds have search warrants.”
“What! Who knows I’m here?”
His uncle cursed in Italian. “Just me. If you want to keep it that way, get the fuck gone.”
“I can’t just disappear.”
“Leave for now. Feds know who you are. No one can see you. Your cover is compromised.”
Gian hadn’t told his father’s youngest brother about the would-be confrontation with his fiancée’s cop brother. Now probably wasn’t a good idea either.
His heart skipped into overdrive and slipped downward. Did the conversation before the gala have anything to do with a federal search warrant?
No, it couldn’t. Elise’s brother was a local cop, not a fed.
Doubts swirled, and he stomped them away. He couldn’t lose his shit.
Gian was in control. This was his operation. His mission. He would succeed. He’d done a hell of a job for the past nine months, on all fronts.
“Dammit, Uncle Dino.”
“Nipote, listen to me. Now. Get gone.”
“I can’t fuck this operation.” Desperation and shock, mixed with rage churned his stomach. Dread and a sense of loss at the wasted time and money made him want to stab something. He grabbed his knife inside his pocket and squeezed it until his fingers ached.
He was supposed to end up owning this place, not be forced to flee.
“You covered your ass with the numbers, right?”
“Yes, always.” Gian was a smart launderer. The paper trail was slight and well disguised; he prided himself on that.
“Then you have nothing to worry about. They won’t find jack shit. Disappear for the day. When the cops leave, you can go back. Assess the need for damage control. If it’s a lost cause, get your ass back to Chicago.”
“Fuck, zio, I don’t want to lose the work I’ve done here, not to mention the money.” That would fuck him even more in his father’s eyes, not endear him.
“I know, nipote. But bars wouldn’t look good for you, either. Just get out. Lay low.”
It was Gian’s turn to exercise his cussing muscle, and he used multiple languages.
Uncle Dino let a bitter laugh loose in his ear. “It might be okay if no one sees you. Just get the fuck out while you still can.”
“Might? Fuck that
. I’ve worked my ass off here. Fucking feds. Does this mean Fratelli talked?”
“We don’t know yet, we’re working on it.”
“Work faster; everyone has a price.”
His uncle laughed again. “Including you and me, nipote. It’s a challenge to get info and keep your and my ass out of it. My sources are limited.”
“You’ve done it before, do it again.” This was a hard order.
Dino growled, a rare show of temper from the normally easy-going older man. His uncle had always been a better soldier than commander. It was probably why they worked so well together, and also why his youngest uncle would never be the king. Not that he’d ever point that out.
The man had spent his coming-up years as an enforcer for his brother, and his father before that. He knew some creative ways to dispose of someone and wasn’t afraid to do it.
“Let me handle Chicago, and you cover your ass in Vegas,” his uncle said finally, but he was mostly even, normal.
“All is not lost,” Gian said.
It can’t be.
He refused to believe he’d wasted the last nine months of his life in the desert, let alone his father’s money.
“You’d better hope they don’t find anything, then.”
“They won’t. I know what I’m doing.” He ended the call, refusing to let even one tiny niggle of doubt inch into his brain.
He left his cellphone on his desk and locked his office on the way out. Hopefully, he could get his shit from the safe without running into his fiancée.
Chapter Twelve
We got a search warrant.
The unfamiliar male’s statement reverberated in Gio’s head, as excitement swept his teammates. The room was cheery and triumphant, but he wanted to puke. Wanted to demand what, who, where, when, why and how, as if he was writing a report on an event he hadn’t witnessed.
The more positive the vibes in the conference space, the less the air flowed. His chest constricted and his head spun.
The light-skinned black man who’d made the announcement at the door strode into the room, a petite redhead on his heels. The guy had a moustache and a bright white-toothed smile to go along with his declaration.
