Camouflage (Predator and Prey #1)

by Angelica Chase

  “You will never figure it out, so give up,” he mused, his beautiful ass on full display as he soaped his hands and I fumed over his security breach. “Though I have to admit, it took a while to get through this new one,” he murmured, crossing his hands over his chest to his thick arms to rinse the soap away. The man was huge, and on full display. I could see every indention, every perfect, God given carving on the surface of him. I was entranced at the hard muscles of his back, his full rounded tight ass, thick thighs and the deep crease of his muscled calves. “So, how have you been?” He turned to me with a dazzling white smile, the water running through his dark hair and outlining his exotic features so beautifully I had to fight to keep my wits about me.

  “Last time I spoke, I scared you away. You sure you won’t take offense to anything I say?” I smarted, giving him attitude. An attitude I swore I would try to keep in check the next time one or both of us was naked and in close proximity.

  Fear was something I held onto dearly to protect and remind myself that I was still alive, and yet even with a second security breach, it struck me I wasn’t afraid of him.

  “You should be,” he said smoothly as I let my eyes wander to where his hands roamed.

  “Get out of my head, Jesus,” I pleaded, throwing my shades on the counter. I waited patiently for him to speak as he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, the scent of his soap and steam wafting through the air. Sex clenching, he moved past me to grab a towel and I moved aside.

  My mouth refused to keep its words. “Clearly you enjoy seeing me irritated.”

  “Women always play dumb to what they agree to with a cock buried deep inside them,” he mused, wiping his chest then starting on his legs.

  “I know nothing about you.” Digging in, I stood my ground. “I’m fine with your damn rules but this is invasion of privacy.”

  “You have three more guns in the house,” he said without hesitation. “I am a man who has to be aware of his surroundings. That is not something I am willing to stay curious about.”

  “Ask,” I hissed as he pushed past me, wrapping the towel around his waist.

  “It is not that simple, Taylor.” He pulled his suitcase from the floor and opened it, pulling on jeans and a t-shirt. He looked up at me. “Your dress will do.”

  Raising my brow, I turned my head in a ‘come again’ gesture. “Your clothes ...they will do.”

  “Oh, thank you,” I said, using my southern accent heavily as I placed my hand on my chest.

  He put his hands on his hips to mock me. It looked ridiculous and I couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped me. He smiled and took my breath. “I’m guessing bitchy doesn’t look good on me, either.” I narrowed my eyes as his smile deepened. “I could still grab that gun and piss you off,” I mused, unable to stop the smile that crept across my face.

  “You could, but would you not rather find out what I have planned for you tonight?” His accent was so thick, his voice deep. This strange, beautiful, foreign man was tickling my senses, dizzying me and making my heart beat a little faster. So, without hesitation, I answered, “Yes.”

  I asked Daniello for a moment and decided I needed my own shower. I picked up his soap and took a huge whiff as my eyes darted through the glass doors to make sure he didn’t see. It smelled divine and I couldn’t place it. It was masculine but fresh with a hint of what I thought was mint. I dropped it when I heard his voice.

  “I brought you a gift, you ungrateful bitch,” he joked from the kitchen, his accent battering the words.

  “Sucker,” I joked back as if we had been doing this routine for years. Maybe he had. Maybe it was his norm. I admitted to myself then I had no idea what territory we were in. This was completely out of the norm for me.

  “You should know this is my last attempt at gift giving,” he said, much too far away. I made quick work of changing into a casual sundress and wedge heels, applied light makeup, and twisted my wet hair into a tight bun.

  I joined Daniello in the kitchen as I saw he had a bottle of wine poured and handed me a glass.

  I took it with a polite thank you and sipped it eagerly to calm my nerves. Fucking him would be easier than casual conversation. As usual, he caught on quickly.

  “Relax.” He nodded at my glass. “What do you think?”

  “It’s delicious, thank you,” I said, taking another sip.

  “Taylor, you are lying,” he whispered.

  “No, I’m not.” Softening my tone, I tried to raise my enthusiasm. “It’s really good. Is this my gift?”

  Daniello sighed and began to laugh softly while he shook his head in exasperation, and took my glass from me. “Thirteen year old award winning bottle from the vineyard,” he scorned still amused. “Taylor, what do you like to drink?”

  “Wine, this is—”

  “Bullshit, a lie,” he snapped, setting his glass down. I couldn’t help my smile with the way his accent slaughtered the words. What came out sounded like bowel shit. I chuckled as he narrowed his eyes.

  “There is only one way to solve this mystery,” Daniello said, nodding in agreement with himself.

  The man was strange. Maybe he cheered for himself daily. Maybe he was a full-fledged team: the player, the referee, and the scorekeeper. I laughed harder as he drug me out of the living room and I escaped his grip to run back to the counter and sip the wine again. “Yep,” I confirmed, wrinkling my nose as he looked back at me, hopeful. “Tastes like shit.”

  It may have been a growl that erupted from him as he pushed me through the front door and waited for me to lock up.

  “By all means,” I prompted, gesturing toward the door.

  “Taylor,” he sighed.

  “What?” I said innocently. “Be a dear and lock up for me.” Turning without looking back, I made my way toward the SUV. I heard Daniello mumbling in the background. I hopped in the back of the SUV, greeting Rocco who refused to give me anything other than a nod in return. I felt loose and alive and was positive the wine had everything to do with it.

  “That settles it,” Daniello said sternly, “no more gifts.”

  “Fine by me.” I gave him a wink and nodded to my front door. He rolled his eyes. “Rocco.”

  Rocco pulled away from the curb sharply and I clung to my seat. Daniello was opposite of me as he took in my dress.

  “You are beautiful tonight,” he said appreciatively. I felt the heat of his compliment. My whole adult life, I’d gotten attention from men. Some had openly gawked at me and I knew the power of sex, but when Daniello complimented me, it mattered. I realized then it was because he was so beautiful, his words were made more powerful. I thought it ironic.

  Beauty is power, money is power, and though in his eyes I had both, with him I felt a little weak.

  Shifting in my seat, I changed the subject. “So what are your plans?”

  “They have changed,” he said with a shrug.

  “Not my fucking mouth again?” I said, testing him.

  “Always,” he replied, his tongue dragging out the word.

  “So you said some of you was Italian. What is the rest of you?” A harmless question and not too personal.

  “My father is half-Spanish and Italian, my mother Egyptian.”

  “Which makes you a mutt,” I joked. He didn’t like my joke.

  Shit.

  “Sorry,” I offered.

  “What is a mutt?” I froze, unable to form words. It sounded much worse in explanation than it did in jest. I stalled.

  “I grew up in Italy and took leave in Egypt, so I do not understand all of your American slang. What is a mutt?” Fiery eyes confronted me as I dug my fingers into the seat and crossed my legs.

  “It’s a dog of mixed breed,” I muttered, trying to hide the fear in my voice. “It’s perfectly acceptable to say in jest, um, when you are joking ...It wasn’t meant—”

  Before I could get the words out, I was snatched by my arms and pulled forward. I landed on Daniello, who was ready
for me as he pushed me beneath him on the seat he was just sitting in and cupped my face roughly.

  “Shut the fuck up, Taylor,” he growled before his lips slammed into mine. I moaned loudly as his kiss disintegrated thought, disintegrated space and time, and lured me into a desperate state for more. I was lost as I clutched him to me as tightly as I could and pressed my angry hard nipples against his chest as he stroked me with his tongue, tasting, sucking and fucking my entire world up. I was completely wrapped in him, my body begging for more as his hand slid up my dress and stroked over my lavender lace panties. Lightly, I pushed my hips up, needing more.

  “Yes,” he whispered, licking his lips and eyeing me as he pulled me up to sit next to him.

  The car stopped and I gave Daniello a curious stare. How long had we been kissing?

  Daniello adjusted his ready cock and no amount of it could cover his arousal. Rocco opened the door and I took his hand and stepped out. We were at The Boathouse, a restaurant I wasn’t familiar with but had heard of for good dining. I looked to Rocco who was whispering Arabic at Daniello, drawing the conclusion Rocco was a mutt as well.

  I walked away, knowing it was useless to try to catch any of that conversation. I walked into the restaurant, leaving the two to argue, realizing that Rocco was the same man that Daniello had been arguing with at the club a few weeks back.

  Why didn’t he just fire him? Maybe they were family. Still, the relationship seemed strained. I shook off those questions, deeming them intrusive, and held up my finger to the bartender. I was looking over the marsh as the sun began to set. Orange and pink hues wafted throughout the restaurant as diners ignored the obscene beauty that surrounded them in lieu of conversation. I had no issue with my own company as I watched the show unveil in front of me. Snow white heron birds with majestic wings patterned around the water, dipping their wing tips on the cool surface before flying into the mix of grassy marsh and then further to clear water. I hadn’t traveled much in my life, never straying further west than Tennessee before making a beeline for New York after Boston. And there was something to be said for the beauty of the Smoky Mountains, but unfortunately for me, I never got to enjoy those.

  But Charleston couldn’t be summed into words. Charleston was a feeling. This city had more breathtaking sunsets and more settings to paint those sunsets than any place I’d ever been.

  “It is beautiful,” Daniello whispered as he joined me. I made a small hmph sound as he pulled me from the bar where I had yet to be served and guided me behind the hostess to our table where we got a front row view of the last of the show.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing compared to Italy,” I noted, saying a small thank you to our hostess.

  “You have not been?” He seemed surprised.

  “I skipped the backpacking through Europe trip in college,” I said absently.

  The server greeted us, asking for our drink order.

  “I’ll have a white wine, your choice.” Smiling, I addressed the waiter.

  “She will have a vodka tonic,” Daniello corrected.

  “Very good, sir,” the waiter walked away and I looked at Daniello, confused.

  “You wrinkle your nose slightly every fucking time you take a sip of any wine. You do not like it.”

  “What?” I asked, wildly confused.

  “Just admit it, you do not like wine,” he said crossly.

  “I order it everywhere,” I said confidently, knowing with him I was transparent.

  “And yet there is not a bottle in your house. Not a single one.” He sat back in his chair defiantly.

  “I’m not much of a drinker.” I shrugged.

  “Because you hate wine,” he insisted.

  “Daniello, I’m really trying here, but how the hell would you know what I like and dislike?”

  “I know you love my tongue in your mouth, my cock in your sweet, tight pussy, and I know you do not like wine.”

  “Fine, vodka tonic it is,” I hissed, taking a sip of our newly delivered drinks and hating it. Daniello saw it and motioned to the waiter.

  “No,” he said ushering the waiter back. “And excuse me ...”

  “Chris ...” the waiter answered, smiling between the two of us as if he were in on the game.

  “I will pay for every drink you deliver to this table until we find something she likes,” Daniello said. “Gin, maybe something with gin.”

  “Way off,” I snubbed.

  Daniello raised his brows, as if I’d already lost. He tapped his fingers on his lips pensively then took another guess. “Scotch?”

  I shook my head and blew out an exasperated breath, looking at our eager waiter. “Whiskey on ice.”

  Daniello chuckled as Chris looked at him. “By all means, give us some whiskey, Chris.”

  Chris nodded in reply and walked away quickly.

  “Why would you suffer with wine all this time?” He wasn’t asking, gloating was more like it. I shrugged and eyed my menu, not giving either recognition.

  Whiskey is not the drink of a lady.

  It had been years since I had thought of that voice, a different ghost, a different life. I straightened in my chair, refusing to explain myself.

  “You will order white wine at every event. You will sip it slowly and you will never have more than two.”

  Minutes of silence followed as Daniello scrutinized me, and I ignored him entirely, instead watching the sunset.

  “I would like you to be comfortable,” he offered in small apology.

  I smirked as I looked up. “And that was handled perfectly.”

  “I find myself answering to you, and it does not please me.” I almost laughed, even more exasperated as fresh drinks were delivered. I took a long drink as Chris waited and watched me.

  “Yummy.” Managing a wink at Daniello, I turned to our waiter and beat Daniello at his game by ordering for the both of us. “We’ll both have the filet, medium rare, rosemary potatoes, and the lobster tail. House dressing with our salads.”

  Chris nodded, his gaze turning to Daniello who was laughing loudly as he waved Chris away.

  “Woman, you have no idea how much you amuse me,” he said, sipping his stiff drink.

  Three drinks later my body buzzed from the amber liquid as Daniello remained light in our conversation. Whiskey had always been my drink of choice, but had the effect of a syringe full of truth serum, so I tried to avoid it at all costs. I reminded myself to remain tight lipped as I sucked on a piece of ice.

  “Why were you at the club?” I asked boldly. “You never entertained any of those women.”

  He wiped his mouth, finished a bite of salad, and watched me suck my ice before answering.

  “I was there with a business partner who frequents the club. I had no desire to...entertain.”

  “Kind of judgmental, isn’t it? You could have tried it at least once.”

  Serious eyes looked at me, watching my chest rise and fall, drifting up to my neck, and then landing on my lips where they remained with his next words.

  “I got all I wanted out of that club.”

  “So did I,” I replied quickly.

  “Ah,” he said, pushing his salad plate to the side. “My first compliment.”

  “Thank you for the wine and the flowers,” I said in a daze, buzzing from the electricity between us and the whiskey running through my veins. “I still hate that you break into my house.”

  “And I will continue to,” he said flatly.

  “Well, I may shoot you.”

  “I look forward to that fight.” Smirking, he moved his hands from the table as his plate was delivered. We ate in comfortable silence and lingering glances that told me what I was in store for.

  “How old are you?” I asked, knowing he couldn’t be much older than me.

  “Thirty-three.”

  “Do you—” I squeaked and he chuckled.

  Fucking whiskey.

  “Do you have a large family?”

  “Large, define large in Am
erican terms,” he ordered as he cut his steak.

  “I don’t know,” I said carefully. “Five brothers and five sisters, big?”

  “There were thirty-one people at our last family dinner.”

  “That’s a family reunion,” I said, stunned as he looked at me in question. “It’s a gathering of family you haven’t seen in sometime,” I said in explanation.

  “We do not do this. We do not see each other for a long time,” he said, amused.

  Our worlds were completely different. It had never been more apparent to me.

  “That’s ...that’s good.” I’d been jealous all my life of families who were close. It was nothing new, but suddenly I found myself glad Daniello had that for himself.

  “And you?”

  His tone was uninterested so I waved him off in reply.

  “I do not accept that, this gesture with your hand,” he snapped.

  “One sister.”

  “And your family union, how many of you are there?”

  I didn’t bother to correct him on his verbiage. “Two.”

  One day. One day, a reunion of two.

  “I see.” It wasn’t pity that covered his features. It was indifference and it confused me. Up until that point, he had seemed interested. Maybe I was asking too much.

  “It doesn’t reveal anything about you if you have a big family, Daniello.” My damn mouth.

  “Let us go,” he barked, lifting his hand to get Chris’s attention.

  “You know if I can’t speak without pissin’ you off, I don’t see the point.”

  I’d heard it. He’d heard it. Not just my words, but the accent. I sat back in my chair and folded my arms at his slightly shocked expression.

  “It’s a southern accent. You know ...we talk this way. You aren’t new to this.” I stood as he threw enough money on the table to pay for the meals of everyone dining. Chris would be over the moon. I was under the bus where I’d thrown myself, and was now being guided by the elbow out of the restaurant.

  “You seem to have more people living inside you than I can keep up with,” he chided as he guided me down the stairs.