by Belle Aurora
Well, okay, yeah, it is. His entirety shouts “I’m a big shot,” and, hell, there can only be one of us in a room at a time.
The man, looking fit for a guy in his fifties, holds out a hand to me.
Amateur.
I don’t take it. I simply hold his gaze without blinking.
His hand falls to his side, and a small smile stretches his lips. “Mr. Falco, my name is Ethan Black.”
Another lukewarm sip of coffee. “That meant to mean something to me, pops?”
Ethan Black tilts his head to the side. “No. Not unless you’re in with the FBI.”
FBI?
I turn to look at the chief, who can’t seem to bring himself to meet my gaze right now. And with that non-gesture, hostility makes a base in my mind. I stand with my hands fisted by my sides and utter, “You lying piece of shit.”
The chief comes out of his seat at my accusation. “I did not lie.”
The heat of the moment has us talking over each other like a couple of grade-schoolers. “You done messed with the wrong guy—”
“We’re negotiating, Twitch—”
“The fucking FBI? You set me up, and I swear to God—”
“I’m not setting you up, you neurotic asshole. I’m trying to help you!”
“Fuck you! Fuck the FBI. I’m out.”
I’m already walking out the door, when Ethan Black opens his mouth and calmly states, “Sit down, Mr. Falco, or I swear to you that smart little boy of yours is never going to meet his father, because he’ll be spending the rest of his life in a maximum security prison.”
I spin so quick with a single intent in my mind, but the current influx of emotion in me makes me sloppy. My blow never meets its target and, red-faced, I watch as Ethan Black disregards my attack with little more than a wave of his hand. He sits in the chair I previously occupied and starts talking. “AJ, isn’t it? Apparently his kindergarten teacher says he’s top of his class and quick as a whip.”
My feet glued to the floor, I stand there, panting, my anger steadily thrumming a drumbeat through my veins. “Don’t.” The single word is said with enough heat to burn.
The chief, calm for the moment, begins, “Twitch—”
“Don’t you say a fucking word, old man. I’m barely holding it together.”
Enough is enough, and apparently, so thinks the chief. “If you’d shut your goddamn mouth and listen for a moment, I can explain why the chief of staff and special counsel of the FBI is standing here right now, in this room, and why you aren’t being cuffed.”
If I open my mouth right now, nothing good can come of it, so I do the only thing I can to keep the peace. I keep my mouth shut.
Ethan Black, Chief of Staff and Special Counsel of the FBI, sits taller, before explaining, “I think what Police Chief Peterson is trying to say is that you may have some information we could use. And in exchange for this information, we’re prepared to offer you a new identity, clean and clear. Pretty generous of the FBI, considering you were a known drug lord manufacturing all sorts of street candy, acting under the guise of your plastics factory, as well as faking your death. Not to mention multiple weapons charges, money laundering, theft, fraud, and the list goes on, and on, and on.” He pauses to let that sink in. “That is a pretty long list of charges, Mr. Falco. You’d be looking at life in prison, and if I had anything to say in it, a non-parole period of 100 years.”
A whole lot of shit bombards my mind at that moment, but there’s only one thing that really sticks to the forefront. “Three months.”
Ethan Black throws me a look of confusion. “Excuse me?”
“Three months,” I repeat, before adding, “You’ve got me for three months and not a fucking day more.”
The chief looks to Ethan before approaching me guardedly with a look that one might approach a wounded dog with. “Twitch, let’s not be unreasonable. Three months is simply not enough time. Hell, most stings wouldn’t be ready in that time.”
Ethan agrees, “I’m sorry, Mr. Falco. That’s not enough time.”
I push. “We’ll make it enough time.”
Ethan shakes his head. “How? There are only so many hours in a day.”
“Three months,” I stress, before muttering, “It’s all I have to give, Black.”
He must see the truth in my eyes, because after an uncomfortably long moment, he nods lightly. “Okay. Three months.”
My relief palpable, I get to work. I don’t have a moment to lose. I’m this close to getting my family back, and nothing is going to stand in my damn way. “I need a map.”
The chief’s brow furrows. “A map? What for?”
“You’re going to need to know where these men live.”
Ethan chuckles as if I just told him something cute. “We already know that information, Mr. Falco.”
“No, you don’t.” I say this with such complete confidence that both men steal a glance at each other. I lift my hand and snap my fingers. “A map. I need a map.”
The chief yells out for Detective Renley, and within minutes, I hand over the secret locations of five of the hardest criminals the planet has ever seen. Once my friends, now my enemies. It’s a shame, but for me to reappear in the world, they need to go. So fuck ‘em.
I feel like a goddamn narc. But I can almost taste my freedom, and something tells me there isn’t a sweeter taste in the world.
Oh wait. Of course there is.
Lexi.
The warm brown tone of the chesterfield sofa is exceptionally deceptive. The moment you sit on the inviting-looking couch, the chill of the firm, cold leather makes you realize that this expensive piece of furniture is here for intimidation, not comfort. And right now, it’s doing a damn good job of doling out its purpose.
This morning, when I woke for the second time, I was hardly surprised to find myself handcuffed again. It was who I was handcuffed to that was surprising.
It seemed that after my emotional outburst in the middle of the night, Julius had decided that cuffing me to the bedframe was not the smartest idea. I returned from the bathroom, walked to the edge of the bed, to the place Julius remained seated with his back against the headboard, and held out my hands to resume my position of prisoner. I wanted to show him that I could be trusted, because gaining the trust of your captor seemed to be a smart move.
My eyes desperately sought permission to wander to Julius, to explore him unabashedly, but I wouldn’t allow it. That didn’t mean they obeyed. Peripheral vision was a beautiful thing.
How could a man who looked so surly, so angry, come across as tender as much as he did unfeeling? I was unsure how to process the evening, especially the moment he took me into his arms and held me, caressed away the pain he had been the cause of. My mind told me to be wary, that this was the way things began with Dino. Yet my heart frantically held onto the sliver of hope that came with the sympathetic gesture.
Rather than secure me again, he moved back over to his side of the bed and waited patiently for my stunned surprise to fade. As I moved slowly, quietly, to lie on the opposite side of the bed, Julius sat tall and threw the covers fully over my small body, all the way up to my neck, making sure I would be warm during the night. With everything that had happened over the last few days, I was sure I’d never get to sleep.
But then I woke up, dazed and confused.
I don’t know what time my eyes fluttered open, but long, warm fingers brushed mine and anxiety set in. My eyes opened wide, and when I tried to pull away, the fingers followed. I attempted to bring my hand up, but came into some difficulty, probably because I was cuffed again and the opposite cuff was attached to a thick wrist. That wrist was attached to a strong, muscled, coffee-colored arm. When I realized I was dangling Julius’s arm in the air, I dropped my hand, letting both ours fall to the bed with a bounce.
A snuffle sounded over the other side of the bed, the mattress moved, and suddenly he was awake. Sitting up, he blinked sleepily down at me as I lay still, wide-eyed and awkwa
rd, pulling the covers up to my nose.
“Time is it?” he asked, knowing full well I didn’t have a watch.
When I didn’t respond, he lifted his cuffed hand, pressing a button on his wristwatch to illuminate the screen, and then spoke gruffly, “I need to be somewhere in an hour, and Ling’s out, so you’re coming with me.” He turned to face me. “You can shower first.”
Behind the safety of the quilt, I spoke a muffled, “I don’t have any clothes.”
His eyes roamed my covered body without a care in the world. “Fine. I’ll go first. You can borrow something from Ling.”
Something told me Ling didn’t wear jeans and sneakers. With my heel punctured, I wasn’t even going to attempt a pair of pumps. “But my heel…”
I sounded like a whiny asshole.
“Alejandra,” he uttered firmly, annoyed, then huffed out a long breath. “We’ll find something.” Then he reached over to our wrists and, with a small key, unlocked his hand, freeing it. He reached back, and the unmistakable light clicking sound of the handcuffs locking again sounded.
I was once again fastened to the headboard.
I was also back to plain ole Alejandra.
The way he called me baby…
Shit. Is that all it takes to win you over, a pet name he probably uses with every woman he meets? That’s tragic.
I shook my head to clear it. This man was dangerous to me. This man would likely be the cause of my death, if not at his own hand. I was not to trust him.
Emotions were fickle. Talk was cheap. It was actions that spoke louder than words.
Actions like his from last night?
Without a single word uttered, I pulled myself up into a sitting position, my arm raised at an awkward angle, my elbow attempting to bend in a way that an elbow will never naturally bend in. But I sat quietly, my mind sleep addled and void of any real thoughts. I wondered whether my sisters were missing me, or were they disappointed in me, in what I’d done.
A big part of me hoped that Veronica, my closest sibling, my best friend, would know there were reasons for me lashing out in such a way.
Lashing out, I thought with a cool laugh. It sounded like something a teenager did, like taking the car without permission, or borrowing your mom’s heirloom diamond earrings and losing one. No. Lashing out was a poor phrase to use. Lashing out didn’t end in the cold, violent death of a person. Well, not normally.
I wanted to feel bad about Dino’s untimely demise, but, God help me, I couldn’t even muster a small piece of sympathy or regret. Rather, I felt warm. I felt my lungs expand to their full potential. I could finally breathe again.
My reason for doing what I did was simple.
I had lost all of my basic human rights. Desperation was my main motivator.
My melancholy thoughts left me as the bathroom door opened and Julius stepped out of the cloud of steam, wearing a pair of too-dark-to-be-navy jeans low on his hips, the button on top still undone.
Beads of water clung to his defined torso as if they had a hard time letting go and, as my eyes roamed his madly toned upper-body, I can’t say I blamed them. He caught my roaming eyes and he stilled. Affected, his stomach clenched a single moment before he took a step forward. The slow movement shook me, and my cheeks blazed in mortification as my surprised gaze met his hooded one.
Shit.
I was caught out.
My belly dipped at the thought. Embarrassment warmed me.
He kneaded one broad shoulder with a large hand, and I could tell of his discomfort, but he never let his pain show.
It had been so long since a man had touched me with gentle hands or kissed me long and slow, with feeling. My gaze came to rest on those full, unintentionally inviting lips, and I wondered how it would feel to kiss a man I wanted to kiss, not one I was forced to.
The thoughts were irrational. Stupid, even. I should not have been thinking these thoughts about anyone, let alone Julius. Especially Julius.
I told myself that it was only because he was extremely attractive, gorgeous actually, and that being in close contact with a man of Julius’s stature was bound to stir some feelings in a woman who craved affection.
It was a crush.
Once again, my eyes glanced over the sharp angles of his beautiful face and came to rest upon his full mouth. I fought a sad sigh.
A harmless crush.
A crush was all it ever could be.
The truth was, I’d never felt so attracted to a man based solely on his appearance. His dark, short, neatly trimmed hair. The day old stubble on his cheeks. The way he held himself, tall and menacing. His flawless light brown skin, high cheekbones, strong nose and manly chin. Those lips…
Oh, God, those lips. They were the stuff of pure fantasy.
His lightly veined arms. The size of his hands. I looked down to his bare feet and my gut clenched. Down to his icy-blue stare, it did it for me. He was the complete package, looks-wise. And it should’ve been the furthest thing from my mind, but I wanted him to hold me again like he did the night before. The feel of his strong, muscled arms around me evoked feelings in me I’d believed were long dead.
Shit, but that meant something to me. That was important to me. It was something bittersweet, something I wanted to explore knowing damn well it could never happen.
I clenched my legs together tightly, slightly shocked at the warmth slithering down my chest and settling in my lower stomach with a light throb.
Knowing I wasn’t immune to the male body was kind of exciting.
That meant there was life after Dino, and the fact had me no longer wanting to die, because, at the end of the long, dark tunnel, there was still hope for me. A very small sliver of hope, but hope nonetheless.
Julius walked into his closet a moment and walked out just as quick, pulling on a thin cream-colored sweater. It looked soft and warm. As he approached me, I wanted to reach out and feel the cool wool myself. I held back, clenching my fingers in reproach.
He leaned over me, and I closed my eyes, breathing in the warm, spicy scent of his cologne. When he unlocked me, my limp arm gave way, but he held it fast. A pained look spread across my face, and my mouth parted as his long fingers worked the stiffness out of the muscles. It felt wonderful.
He felt wonderful.
Julius must have been watching me closely, because he mistook my pained expression for actual hurt. “I don’t like cuffing you, but you leave me little choice.” My gaze flew to his at the gruffly spoken words, and he went on, kneading the muscles in my forearm. “Regardless of what you might think, I don’t like the fact that you’re hurting. If I could, I’d let you go.” His admission stuns me. “But Gambino wants you dead, and I’ve got to give him something.”
My breathing heavy, I swallowed hard and held his stare. “I don’t want to die.” My whispered confession is very real.
His eyes softened a moment. His hands worked my arm a second longer then his fingers slid down past my wrist then curled around my hand for a whisper of a moment before he placed my hand on my lap. His voice held a notion of regret. “That’s not my business.” He released me and took a small step back, his eyes on me, his gaze cautious. “Not unless you make it my business.”
My mouth gaped in an attempt to save myself, and all the words begged to come spewing out, but I snapped it shut just as quick. I reminded myself that all the men in my life had either deserted me or hurt me, and this man would do the same. I would be wise to watch out for any tricks Julius planned to use.
This man did not want to help me. He wanted to manipulate me.
He missed nothing, dear Julius, and shook his head softly in irritation. He moved ever so slightly, placing his hands on his hips, looking at me expectantly. “Can’t help you unless you talk to me, little sparrow.”
I so badly wanted to become his little sparrow, but my body curled in on itself, my cheeks pink, as I responded quietly, “I’d like to shower now.” Then added, “Please,” in case I seemed mildly ung
rateful.
Coming forward, he grasped my elbow and led me to the bathroom. I walked inside, and the door closed behind me, the distinct sound of a lock clicking over echoing inside the pristine white en suite.
I looked wistfully at the shower stall, reached for the hem of my dirty shirt, but then hesitated.
What if Julius decided to come back in while I was showering?
I couldn’t let him see me.
A split second decision had me removing my bra, sliding through the armhole of my blouse, and pants, but leaving my underwear and ripped, dirty top on. Turning on the water, I waited until the temperature was to my liking then stepped under the warm spray, wetting my hair. I shampooed twice, only satisfied when my hair squeaked from cleanliness. I didn’t spot conditioner, but I wasn’t about to complain. I undressed the wound on my heel and cleansed it gently. It stung so badly, but I kept quiet lest Julius come storming in to see what was wrong. I soaped up thoroughly and took my time rinsing off, and when I was officially clean, my skin scrubbed red raw, I stood under the spray with my eyes closed, just because it was soothing to my soul.
A hard knock on the door startled me. I called out, “Yes?”
Julius responded through the door, “Brought in some of Ling’s clothes.” The click of the lock turning over sounded then the doorknob started to turn. “I’m bringing them i—”
Sheer panic had me yelling, “Leave them in the closet!” It took everything for me to not shout, “Do not come in here.”
Much to his credit, he did not press the issue, just grunted, “Hurry up.”
After a five-minute pep talk to myself, I covered my bottom half with a towel while draping another over my shoulders, leaving my body completely covered, before rushing out of the bathroom, face down, and making it to the enormous closet, which could have acted as a second bedroom.
I was pleasantly surprised at the selection of clothes he had brought. I slid on the plain black panties provided but, as predicted, there were no jeans in sight. However, there was a classy but comfortable pair of black slacks that fit me nicely, but were a little loose around the waist. I slipped back on my own bra, because Julius hadn’t thought to bring one of Ling’s, and shrugged on a tasteful, white long-sleeved shirt, buttoning it up one button from the top. My hair was a write off without product, but I brushed it out and let it hang wet down my back.
