The Marker: Book One in the Bridge Series

by Howes, Ann

“Sweet Holy Jesus!” he murmurs. “I must be dead because I’m seeing angels.”

  I turn around. My stomach whooshes and that poor abused thing in my chest called my heart starts dancing the hustle.

  Gianni-fucking-Cadora.

  Looking fantastic, a little flushed and windblown. He’s dressed in a dark blue, slim-fitting suit, crisp white shirt and an icy blue silk tie, the same color as his eyes. As he walks towards me running a hand through his hair he passes the five women. A few hands fly to their throats including Terra’s and all their eyes pop wide open.

  One of them announces loudly, “That’s it! I’m going home to jump my man. Too much hotness in one room.” The rest of them burst into nervous giggles.

  I have to agree.

  “You good?” he asks, running his hand up my arm, eyes searching mine and breathing hard.

  “I’m good,” I mumble ’cause that’s all I can manage. “Why are you so out of breath?”

  “Ran here.”

  “What? You ran here?”

  He nods and scans the room. “Was a couple blocks away. Where’s Marco?”

  “Out back.”

  He ran?

  For me?

  “Stay here.” He turns to Tony and stops with a jerk as he takes him in. Then drops his head and pulls in his lips. After a moment he asks, “You and your shotgun got this?”

  Tony’s mouth’s still hanging open, head cocked to the side. He nods once, slowly.

  “Okay, then,” Gianni says. “Nice pants.”

  He squeezes my arm and touches his lips to my temple before moving to the rear exit.

  Tony’s eyes, wide as margarita glasses, follow him until he’s gone then keep staring for a few moments more as if hoping he’ll come back.

  “Woo-wee,” he says finally, but it comes out weak and a little shaky. “If you ever break up with that man, I want first dibs.”

  “I’m flattered, Tony, but he’s not my man.”

  “Oh, sugar pie, he’s yours, don’t doubt it. ’Cause if you do, I’ll come right behind you and swoop him up.”

  “I don’t believe he’s turnable, Tony.” Cass giggles. “But it would be all kinds of fun watching you try.”

  “Hallelujah, sisters,” he yells, holds his margarita glass in the air, then tosses it back. First his eyes widen, then they cross and his mouth puckers.

  Placing his glass on the bar with deliberate slowness, he squeezes his temples with his silver fingernails and squeals out a high-pitched, “Oooooh.”

  It’s too much. Cass and I burst into gales, snorting margaritas out our noses, which, of course, makes us laugh even harder until we’re doubled over.

  “How the hell did Alfie do that?” Tony asks after he recovers.

  “He’s got dentures. Maybe that helps.” I say, wiping tears from my eyes with my thumbs.

  “I suppose. My nuts retracted all the way up into my eye sockets. Explains why Alfie never had children.”

  This sets us off again and I’m laughing into my arms resting on the bar when Gianni and Marco return. I know this because the noise level at the women’s table drops to a hush. I sit up and try to pull it together.

  “We gotta go,” Gianni says, taking a look at me. “What’s the damage?” He looks at Tony, making a little circle with his index finger over the drinks.

  “Buuuh,” Tony utters, his face going slack again. It’s a thing of wonder, the reaction people have to Gianni.

  “I think what he’s trying to say,” Marco says, grinning, “is Alfie took care of it.”

  “Yaaaa…” Tony nods, his pale complexion turning bright pink. Good to know it’s not just me.

  Cass and I collect our purses and blow kisses at a slack-jawed Tony, then I wave to Terra. The men flank us, Marco in front, Gianni behind me.

  In the parking lot, Marco tosses the Land Rover’s keys to Gianni, then follows Cass to her Audi Q7.

  Gianni opens the passenger door, removes his jacket and tie, then tosses them onto the back seat. When I’m settled, he pulls the seat belt across me, leaning into me as he snaps it into the slot.

  Mmm.

  He smells delicious. A little bit like his spicy aftershave and a lot like man. Our eyes lock and I stop breathing. His flare and when he swallows I know he’s remembering this morning, but he pulls back and the moment is gone. What’s not gone is the tingle between my legs that started the moment he walked into Tony’s.

  Suddenly, I make a decision.

  I accept his terms.

  It may be the tequila talking or (and this is the more likely reason) because I’m weak and apparently a slut, but I need to know where this is going.

  I want him.

  I want more of those orgasms he can give me and I’ll take what I can get. As long as I remember what it is I’m getting.

  “Marco not coming?” I ask after he starts the engine and he’s backing the car out of the slot.

  “Driving Cass home.”

  “In what?”

  “Her car.”

  Oooh.

  God, I’m in deep shit.

  Alone with Gianni in a confined space after a double dose of tequila? How am I going to keep my hands off him with all these dirty thoughts running through my head? Whatever morals I had have drowned in a mango margarita.

  All I can think about is that moment in the kitchen and how desperately I want another one.

  I squeeze my legs together, but it doesn’t help, instead it intensifies. I never got how in the movies a woman would want to have sex with a man while driving. Well, dangit, I’m getting it now.

  I unsqueeze and sneak a sideways glance, but he’s focused on traffic or deep in his thoughts.

  Either way, that’s good. That’s very, very good.

  “How’s Billy?” he says, breaking into my fantasies.

  “Feisty.”

  “As soon as he’s able, I’ll have him moved to the house. Hire a nurse.”

  We’ve hit some congestion and come to a stop and he must feel my stare, because he turns his head and looks at me.

  “You’d do that?”

  His gaze moves slowly over my face. “Of course. Billy’s family. I love that bastard.”

  Wow.

  “I’m pretty sure he loves you back, but that’s beyond generous.”

  He shrugs. “He’d do it for me.”

  He would indeed.

  “Thank you.” I swallow back the lump in my throat. “You should know, I never thought you were heartless. Cold and a jerk and insensitive maybe, but that was before all this. I’m sorry.”

  His eyes go all soft and then they go all hot, making it difficult to turn away. “Careful, De Luca,” he says in a gruff voice. “There’s that fucking look again.”

  Oh lord, I can’t hide from him. Luckily the cars in front start moving again. He clears his throat and goes back to focusing on the traffic.

  For the rest of the way we’re silent while I check Facebook on my phone to distract myself. But instead my thoughts wonder to what Dean’s deal is? Was he there to do something or was he there just to fuck with me? Let me know he can get to me whenever he wants?

  At the house, Gianni triggers the remote to the garage. The large doors slide open and the light sensor kicks in as we drive in. He pulls the Land Rover into its spot and cuts the engine.

  “You sure you’re good?” he asks quietly.

  “I’m fine.” Those blue eyes narrow, brows coming together until the Y appears. Instead of opening the door, he twists in his seat to face me.

  “What is it, Shelley? I can feel those wheels turning in your head.”

  “I’m trying to figure out Dean. Why would he hurt Billy? Is it to hurt me?”

  “Men like him don’t need a reason. We’ve established he’s fucked in the head, doing the things he’s done.”

  A shudder moves through me at the memory of my panties and the spy-cam in my bathroom. “He’s really running girls?”

  “His crew is, which means he is.”

/>   “I can’t believe I’m such an idiot. I mean, I liked him…until I didn’t. What does that say about me?”

  Something flickers across his face and he takes a moment before he answers.

  “He’s charming, I’ll give him that. Convinced Joey to partner with him. Don’t beat yourself up too much.”

  “Do you think…? God.” I look away and swallow. “I can’t even contemplate this…that he was…?”

  “Going to make you one of his girls?” He shakes his head. “He wants you for himself.”

  “That scares the hell out of me,” I whisper.

  “It scares all of us.”

  “How’s this going to end, Gianni?”

  He shrugs. “It’ll end the way it ends. Mostly depends on Melnikov, what kind of moves he makes. That’s all I can say for certain.”

  “What do you and Carmine have in mind?”

  He slides me a look, then shakes his head. “Can’t talk about that, babe.”

  Shit.

  He opens the car door, steps out and helps me out of my side by offering me a hand, which I take. “Come on, I want to show you something.”

  When we enter the kitchen, Truman’s waiting, doing his little polka dance and each time he huffs in excitement, his front legs lift off the ground. It makes me happy that this funny dog’s excited to see me. I rub him and squeeze his ears.

  “That’s another one obsessed with you,” Gianni mutters softly. So softly I’m not sure I was meant to hear.

  “You, Dog,” he says louder, and points at Truman, “stay here.”

  The dog sits and stares at him, red-rimmed eyes blinking and darting between us, like he’s waiting for me to contradict Gianni.

  “Stay here, Truman. I’ll see you soon.” Truman drops his head, nose pointing to the floor.

  “Truman?” Gianni cocks that scarred eyebrow.

  “Yeah, what’s his real name?”

  “Dog.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Fuck me,” he says, placing his hands on the back of my neck and guiding me out of the kitchen.

  As we walk down a long, hardwood hallway decorated with oriental carpets and paintings of descendants of the Cadora family, his hand drops to my lower back and stays there.

  One little touch. It’s more intoxicating than the tequila and sets fires in my lower spine.

  At the end is a small flight of stairs heading down, then a door which he opens and we step inside.

  Odd. I never knew this was here before.

  Six large-screen monitors are mounted on a wall displaying footage of every angle of the house, gardens and driveway.

  A beefy guy of about twenty-five with a buzz cut and headphones monitors footage behind a rectangular desk against the wall. He looks away from his computer and flashes a white, gap-toothed smile.

  “This is Thomas.”

  I wave, he tips his chin.

  “A surveillance room?”

  “Don’t miss much, do you.” Gianni grins.

  “Shut up.” I bump him with my shoulder.

  On the other side is a window facing the bridge, shuttered by partially open wooden plantation blinds.

  “What are those focused on?” I point to four more screens. Only one’s turned on, displaying a picture that seems familiar.

  “The first three show the inside of the house. For when we have functions or meetings. I entertain here instead of at my house. But we can also direct feed remotely from other locations when we need to.”

  “For instance…?”

  His eyes land on mine. “Your apartment.”

  Say what?

  “Carmine and I installed wireless cameras last night.”

  On closer inspection, I realize the familiar picture is the hallway outside my apartment door. My jaw drops. Are the other screens for inside?

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” I sense him stiffen.

  That’s why he wanted my keys.

  Fuck. My blood’s heating rapidly, racing through my veins. No doubt aided by the tequila.

  “Who’s running this?”

  “Carmine. Shelley…?”

  And that’s why Marco and Carmine didn’t want to talk in front of me.

  Bastards.

  “You should have told me about this before you began to surveil my apartment.”

  “Wasn’t time.”

  “Bullshit. You had plenty of time last night to inform me you were going to do this. Or how about a text or a hey Shelley we’re going to do what Dean just did? But nooo…” I jab a finger into his chest.

  “Shelley,” he growls and grabs my wrist. “Don’t do that.”

  “You could’ve told me this morning. You had plenty time then instead of doing other things.” I kick his shin, which probably hurts me more than him, but I refuse to show the pain jolting from my knees.

  “Fuck, woman…”

  “Shut up, asshole,” I yell and yank my wrist from his grip.

  Thomas stares, wide eyes darting between us, his mouth hanging open.

  Ha! Probably never seen anyone who’s not Isabella Cadora yell at him before.

  I storm out the room, hearing “Dammit, De Luca…” before I slam the door behind me, not caring how much my knees hurt or if I hit him in the nose. I hope I broke it.

  As I’m not paying attention to my feet, I almost trip over Truman, who’s defied Gianni’s order and is waiting outside.

  “Come on, Truman. Let’s get the hell out of here.” He grunts and follows me back up the four stairs and down the hallway. While I struggle slowly up the other, much longer flight of stairs, he jumps ahead, then stops to wait for me to catch up.

  “Isn’t there an elevator in this damn house?”

  Truman sneezes.

  When I finally open my bedroom door, out of breath, I’m pleasantly surprised, but it doesn’t last long. Connie’s cleaned and vacuumed. Everything looks pristine but it doesn’t do much to help my mood. If I were a cartoon, steam would be coming from my ears.

  Who does the jerk think he is? Dean?

  Fuck, no, not Dean.

  I toss my things on the bed, and use the bathroom before I fling the French doors open. Hoping the cool, salty air on my face will calm me down. I close my eyes and stand on the threshold.

  There’s no wind and it’s still a beautiful day with a slight haze off the coastline, the sun is about a foot above the horizon.

  A movement to my right catches my eye. My heart lurches in my chest and my stomach gets that whooshy feeling. Because isn’t my fucking luck just fantastic? The asshole’s on the phone, with his back to me.

  How the hell did he get there?

  Then it occurs to me, the other French doors are open.

  Oh, my word.

  That has to be his room, right next to mine. We share the frigging balcony. That Vicodin really did a number on me.

  He paces as he speaks, running one hand through his hair. When he reaches the end of the balcony and turns, he stops when he sees me. Then gives me that lazy smile making my heart beat so loudly, I’m convinced he can hear it.

  Asshole.

  Determined to stay mad, I glare at him, hoping at least one of the daggers shooting from my eye hits the target. Just because he’s perfect doesn’t mean I’m going to let that get in the way of chewing him out.

  He keeps talking and holding my gaze until I look away. I walk to the edge of the balcony and lean against the balustrade.

  A pod of white pelicans circles just off the edge of the cliff. Some dive, while others float and scoop up fish in their long, pointy bills. From a distance, they look like pterodactyls, graceful and hypnotizing.

  Footsteps and a shadow alert me to Gianni’s approach, but even if I hadn’t heard, I’d sense he was behind me considering the way my skin prickles.

  “Talk to me, De Luca.”

  “Who the hell do you think you are?” I spin to face him. “You had no right to wire my apartment and you most definitely should have asked me first before yo
u took Carmine there.”

  “Shelley…”

  “Dammit, Gianni, don’t you think I feel violated enough? Does it matter that I have to deal with that freak stalking me, going through my things, my dirty laundry? And now you doing whatever the hell you want with my privacy?”

  “Shelley…”

  “And why didn’t you tell me this morning?”

  “If you’d shut your yap for a minute, woman, I’ll explain.”

  “My yap?”

  “Yep.”

  “You don’t need to be a jerk.”

  “Now I’m a jerk again?”

  “You’re always a jerk.”

  His mouth quirks. The corner of his eyes crinkle in that way that slays my heart and poof. There goes my anger in a puff of fairy dust that would make Tony proud.

  I plant my hands on my hips. “What’s so damn funny?”

  “You are. Come here, woman.” His arm snakes behind my back and crushes me hard against him. Then he walks us a step back, until my butt’s against the balustrade, trapping me. Again.

  Not good.

  But oh, so, so good.

  “You got a thing about trapping me?”

  “Yep. It keeps you where I want you.”

  “Asshole.”

  “I was gonna ask if you’re done bitching, but I see I might be premature.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Mmm. There’s that attitude I love so much.”

  “Um…”

  Okay.

  The tingling between my legs that never completely went away gets stronger, making my knees weak. Leaving me no choice other than to cling to his upper arms for support.

  “Said it before, but you’re kinda cute when you’re pissed. Your eyes spark and you get this sexy little flush in your cheeks.”

  Great.

  Now I feel myself flushing.

  “You can’t charm your way out of this, Gianni Cadora.” I loosen my grip on his arms and wriggle against his solid chest but he doesn’t budge. Not even a little bit.

  “Keep fighting me, De Luca,” he whispers, tightening his arms around me. “I wanna kiss you right now and the more you wriggle, the more I want it.” He dips his head and nuzzles my neck.

  I have to bite my lip to stop a groan from escaping and it’s getting really, really hot in the south.

  “You know this is happening, sooner or later.” His five o’clock shadow and breath on my skin makes my belly tighten and my core spasm. “I’d prefer sooner.”