by Land, Alexa
I looked closely at the statue, trying to see what Vincent was seeing, and a cheerful voice behind us said, “I love it when people get me.”
Skye was standing in the doorway, positively beaming. His arrival snapped Vincent out of his reverie, who seemed a little embarrassed as he said, “You’re exceptionally gifted. I have no doubt you’ll go far in your art career.”
“Thanks, I hope you’re right,” Skye said, retrieving a sandwich from the refrigerator. “Do you two want to stay for dinner? We have plenty.”
“I actually have to be at work soon,” I said. “What time is it, anyway?” Vincent glanced at the sleek silver watch on his wrist and told me the time. “Crap, I’m going to be late! I’m supposed to start work in fifteen minutes,” I exclaimed.
“I’ll drive you,” Vincent said. “You won’t be late.”
After quick goodbyes to the brothers, I jogged downstairs with Vincent right behind me and got back in his black Land Rover. “Thank you,” I said, “both for taking me to work, and for helping us get all our stuff back to River’s apartment. I don’t know why you’re going to all this trouble, but I really appreciate it.”
“It’s no trouble,” he said, swinging the SUV around in a big U-turn.
“How did you know to go this way?” I asked.
“My grandmother told me you work at Nolan’s.”
As we cut across town, I watched his handsome profile and finally got up the courage to say, “Why did you ask about me?”
He didn’t look at me as he replied, “I find you...intriguing.”
That was more than a little surprising. I just had to make a joke of it, I didn’t know what else to do with a statement like that. “Because I’m so unbelievably awkward and clumsy?”
“Because you’re stunningly beautiful.”
That was the very last thing I’d expected to hear from such a gorgeous guy. It was the last thing I’d expect to hear from anyone, actually. I turned from him and stared unseeingly at the passing cityscape.
It only took a few minutes to drive to the bar and grill. Vincent pulled into the back alley and put the car in park. As I unfastened my seatbelt, I murmured, “Thank you.” That was as much for the ride as for calling me beautiful.
He turned his head to look at me, and when I met his gaze there was something in his eyes, something that looked an awful lot like longing. It was so compelling that I acted on impulse and leaned in and kissed him, right on those full, sexy lips. I usually wasn’t that bold, and about three seconds into it the real Trevor started screaming ‘oh my God, what are you doing!’ in my head. I pulled back abruptly and mumbled, “Thanks again.”
I bolted from the Land Rover and launched myself through the service entrance. Once the door was shut behind me, I leaned against the wall for a moment, catching my breath. Had I really just done that? Had I planted a kiss on the sexiest man alive? And ugh, ‘thanks again’ made it sound like I was thanking him for letting me kiss him. So awkward!
He’d kissed me back, though. There’d definitely been some reciprocating. His lips had parted slightly, and he’d leaned forward a bit, instead of pulling away. I touched a fingertip to my lower lip, remembering the sensation of my mouth on his....
“You okay, Trevor?”
I jumped at that and spun to face Dmitri, co-owner of the bar along with his husband Jamie. “Yeah, fine,” I mumbled, and started to hurry past him.
“Hang on a second.” Dmitri detained me with a gentle touch on my upper arm. “What’s wrong? You seem upset.”
“I’m not upset, just a little flustered.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I looked closely at my employer. His expression was sincere, his blue eyes sympathetic. He was a really nice guy, and he and Jamie tried to make everyone that worked here feel like family, so I knew his offer was genuine. Since I really did want someone to talk to right then, I blurted, “I just kissed somebody. This is going to sound incredibly stupid, because I’m twenty and not fourteen, but that was actually my first real kiss. Well, except for playing truth or dare in grade school, but that doesn’t really count, does it?”
Dmitri grinned at that. “There’s nothing wrong with being a late bloomer, Trevor.”
“It’s embarrassing. And man, this guy – he’s not exactly what you usually start with, you know? I mean, for most people, their first kiss happens in their teens, with another equally inexperienced, socially awkward teenager. But apparently I had to start with the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.”
“So, is this guy older than you? Is that why you’re so thrown off?”
“Not by much. He’s just...he’s everything I’m not. He’s sophisticated and mature, and seems to totally have his act together. I must seem like such a disaster in his eyes.”
“Did he say that?”
I smiled shyly, looking down at my shoes, and said, “Well, no. He actually called me beautiful.”
Dmitri chuckled at that. “So, why are you stressing? A hot guy thinks you’re beautiful, and you kissed him. That’s awesome.”
“What if he didn’t want me to plant one on him? What if I totally overstepped and made him feel uncomfortable?”
“Did he seem uncomfortable?”
“Well, no.”
“I think you should call him and ask him out.”
I grinned and said, “Because that wouldn’t be terrifying.”
“What’s the worst thing that could happen?”
“He could laugh in my face.”
“Do you really think he’d do that?” Dmitri asked.
I grinned and said, “Stop making this sound so easy.”
He smiled at me, which brought out a perfect set of dimples. “Go on, take a chance.”
“I’m not going to call him, I don’t even have his number. But I’ll probably run into him again since Nana, his grandmother, is helping my friend and me with our catering business. Maybe I’ll ask him out next time I see him.”
In an instant, Dmitri’s expression went from cheerful to dead serious. “Trevor...are we talking about Vincent Dombruso?”
That really surprised me. “Yeah. Do you know him?”
“His brother Dante is a close friend of mine, and I’ve known the Dombruso family for years.”
“Okay. So, why do you look like I kissed the devil himself?”
“Because Trevor,” Dmitri said, “you kind of did.”
Before I could ask what he meant by that, there was some kind of commotion in the kitchen. We both began moving toward the sound. Suddenly, Jamie rounded the corner with two of the cooks, one of which had his hand wrapped in a dishtowel and was raising it up over his head.
“What happened?” Dmitri asked.
Jamie told him, “Raffi cut himself pretty deeply and I need to take him to the hospital. Leah wants to go along, she’s worried.” The two chefs were a couple.
“Text me when you get there and let me know how he’s doing,” Dmitri said.
“Will do.”
“Can you help out in the kitchen?” Dmitri asked me once the trio left through the back door. “I can fill in for Leah, but I need a sous chef.”
“Sure, but what about the front of the house?”
“The wait staff will have to bus their own stations, it’s more important that we get the orders filled.”
The next couple hours passed quickly. Between Dmitri’s instructions and what I’d observed about how the kitchen was run, I was able to get the job done. When Jamie and Leah returned and took over (after dropping a stitched-up Raffi back at his apartment), Dmitri told me, “We really need to move you into the kitchen the minute a position opens up. Your skills are going to waste bussing tables.” He pulled off his apron and tossed it in the laundry bin.
“I’d love that.” I too removed the big white apron I’d been wearing and replaced it with a short black one, which I tied around my hips. As I grabbed a clean dishcloth, I changed the subject by saying, “So, sometime when we’re not busy, I
’d like to continue our conversation about Vincent Dombruso.” His earlier comment had been eating away at me all evening.
“Sure, but the main thing you need to know is that he’s a very dangerous individual. I was raised in the Russian mafia, by the way, so it takes a lot for me to think of someone as dangerous.”
“I’ve met a surprising number of people in the mob since I moved to San Francisco. I never realized it was so prevalent here.”
“It isn’t. There are just a few contingents, and you happen to have landed right in the midst of them.” Dmitri flashed me a smile, dimples and all, and added, “I’m not in that line of work anymore, in case you were wondering.”
Chapter Three
I ended up closing out both the dining room and bar that night, because Nolan’s was particularly busy and the wait staff needed help. It was a little after two a.m. when I finally buttoned up my old navy blue cardigan and exited the restaurant through the service entrance. I usually didn’t work that late, and hoped the buses were still running.
Even though it was June, the night was cool and foggy. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and started down the alley. Since I had a lot of cash on me, both from my earlier catering job and because the wait staff had tipped out generously tonight, I was worried about getting mugged on the way home. Actually, I worried about that every night, but more so now that I had something worth stealing.
When a tall figure stepped out from behind a parked SUV, backlit by a distant streetlamp, I gasped and froze in my tracks. “Trevor, it’s me,” a familiar voice said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Vincent.” Without thinking, I took a step back from him.
I couldn’t see his face, but I saw what that did to his body language, his shoulders slumping and his silhouette folding in on itself ever-so-slightly. “Well, that was fast,” he said quietly.
“What was?”
“You’ve already learned to fear me. I figured it was just a matter of time before your employer warned you away from me, but I’d hoped....”
“What?”
“I’d hoped by then you would have gotten to know me a little, so you’d make up your own mind.”
I circled around him and he turned toward me, so his face was now partially lit by the streetlamp. “If you don’t want people to be afraid of you, maybe consider not hanging out in dark alleys,” I said, trying to keep my tone light. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I came to offer you a ride home. It isn’t safe to be out by yourself at this hour.”
“Why didn’t you come inside? You could have had a drink at the bar while I finished my shift.”
“Given what your employer probably had to say about me, do you really think I would have been welcome in there?”
I slowly walked toward him. “I doubt they’d throw you out. Jamie and Dmitri are nice people.” I stopped right in front of him and looked up. Even though I was just under six feet tall, he had a good four inches on me.
“I don’t go places I’m not wanted.”
I watched him for a few moments. In the dim light, his eyes were black behind his glasses, his expression totally unreadable. “You only met me a few hours ago,” I said. “Why would you want to give me a ride home?”
“I was concerned for your safety.”
“Is that the only reason you’re here?”
After a moment, he admitted, “I kept thinking about the way we left it when I dropped you off.”
“I don’t know what came over me. I really don’t make a habit of kissing people I barely know, and—”
Vincent cut off my awkward explanation by gently taking hold of my upper arms and brushing his lips to mine. My hands came up and gripped the lapels of his suit jacket as I sank into that kiss, every part of my body stirring to life.
When I finally pulled back from him, my voice was a little rough as I asked, “How did you know I’d be off at two? I was actually only scheduled to work until ten, not that you would have known that either.”
“I’ve been out here a while.”
“How long is a while?”
“Don’t ask.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” he said with just the faintest grin, “it’d sound ridiculous if I admitted I’ve been out here for the last three hours.”
“Have you really?”
“No. It was a little over four, but that sounds completely crazy and desperate, so I rounded it down to three.” That grin still tugged at the corner of his lips.
I smiled at that. “What have you been doing to pass the time?”
“Reading.”
“Good answer.”
His grin got just a bit bigger. “Is it?”
I nodded and told him, “It shows we have something in common. I love reading.”
“We have something else in common, too.”
“What’s that?”
“This.” He tilted my chin up with a gentle touch, his lips meeting mine again. I put my arms around him this time and held him to me as we kissed, letting my eyes slide shut, sinking into it.
“Oh yeah,” I murmured when we broke apart. “That too.”
“Come on,” he said, taking my hand. “It’s really late, let me get you home.”
“Okay.”
But then I pulled him to me and kissed him again as he tangled his fingers in my hair. When I slid my tongue between his lips, he sucked it gently and a little moan escaped me. I wrapped my arms around him again, holding him tightly, my hands splayed out on his broad back. God he felt good, so strong and solid. I slid my hands down to his narrow waist, but then something at his lower back made me hesitate.
I looked up at him. “Is that a gun in your waistband?” His expression was grave as he nodded, just once. “Why are you armed, Vincent?”
“I always carry a gun,” he said, “because I never know when I might have to protect myself or someone I care about.”
When I took a step back from him, his body language changed again, just like it had when I’d first found him in the alley. It was really subtle, but I could see him withdrawing into himself, some part of him shutting down as his expression became guarded.
“I have no idea what’s going on in your life that makes you think that’s necessary,” I told him, “and I probably don’t want to know. But I hate guns, for reasons I’m really not going to go into right now. I can’t be around you as long as you’re carrying a weapon.” I turned and started walking down the alley, away from him.
“Wait.” When I didn’t stop, he said, “Trevor, public transit isn’t running this late and you’ll never find a cab. Please just let me drive you home. It’s dangerous out there.”
I turned and looked at him. “It’s dangerous here too, apparently.”
He reached behind him and pulled the gun from his waistband. A cold trickle of fear ran down my spine at the sight of it. He ejected the clip into his hand and removed a bullet from the chamber, then walked toward me slowly, holding the gun by the barrel. “Would you rather hold the gun or the bullets?” he asked. “If you keep one and I keep the other, maybe that’ll make you feel better about being in the car with it while I drive you home.”
“Neither,” I said, my hands balling up into fists at my sides.
Vincent dropped the clip and ammunition into a nearby dumpster. “I’d throw the gun out, too,” he said, “but then I’d be concerned about someone finding it in the trash and using it.” He walked back to his SUV and opened the rear hatch, put the gun inside and closed it again. “That’s the best I can do.”
I hesitated for a long moment before slowly walking to the Land Rover and climbing in the passenger seat. When he got behind the wheel, I recited my address, then turned my head to look out the window. “I would never hurt you, Trevor,” he said softly as he started the engine and pulled out of the alley. “Not in a million years.”
“I believe you,” I said. “I just really have to wonder what you’re involved in that makes you thin
k you need to be armed.”
“I can’t talk about it.”
“You should, though. Maybe if you explained it to me....”
“I really can’t.”
We wound through the quiet streets of San Francisco. Most of the city was asleep at this time of night, and the thin layer of fog made everything look hazy and dreamlike. “Shit,” Vincent muttered under his breath, and abruptly turned right.
“This isn’t the way to my apartment,” I told him.
“I know. I just need to see something.” He was watching his rearview mirror, and swore again before murmuring, “Christ, why now?”
“What’s wrong?”
“We’re being followed.”
“Seriously?” He took a left turn, eyes still on the rearview mirror, and I pivoted in my seat and looked behind us. A big, black Escalade made the same left, then hung about half a block back. “Why would someone be following you?”
“Lots of reasons.”
“Who are they?”
“Any one of a number of people.”
“Like?”
Instead of answering, he turned to look at me. “I’m really sorry you got caught in the middle of this. They must have stumbled across my SUV through sheer dumb luck, and now there’s only one thing I can do. I need to outrun them.”
“Um, or you could just drive to a police station and go inside with me.”
“I can’t involve the police.”
“Why not?”
“I just can’t. Hang on, Trevor. This might get kind of scary, and I apologize for that.”
Vincent wrenched the stick shift and slammed on the gas, and the Land Rover took off so fast that I was pressed against my seat. We’d just rounded the crest of a hill and were momentarily out of sight of the Escalade, so Vincent took a wild left turn, then an immediate right. I could hear brakes squealing somewhere behind us.
