by Gina LaManna
“Tell me then, how do you get to your level of experience?” I prodded. I didn’t know much of anything about Anthony’s past, and I wanted more than anything for him to take the bait and start talking. I was doing my best to follow Meg’s advice and find out about Anthony. The problem was that I wanted to know, but he didn’t want to tell me.
Anthony surveyed the window – starting at the top, following the cracked cement outline to the bottom, eventually settling his gaze on me. Pressing his back against the driver’s side window, he crossed his arms against an expansive chest.
“How did I get to be head of security for the Luzzi Family?” he asked. “For starters, one must track down every single threat – real or otherwise – and squash it out. That’s why your grandfather is still alive.”
I cleared my throat, feeling my cheeks blush. I’d only meant it to start up a pleasant, semi-work related conversation. My only goal had been to pass the time and help me forget the upcoming hour that would make me a year older. Eleven fifty – ten minutes to go.
Anthony’s gaze softened, almost as if he hadn’t realized too late that I hadn’t been looking for a deadly serious response. His stiff posture relaxed and he shifted back in the seat, his eyes focused straight ahead. Reaching towards the dashboard, he ran his hands around the steering wheel, sliding his hands against the leather with a soft whoosh. It may have been the first sign of nervousness I’d ever seen from Anthony.
“You weren’t asking that as a serious question, were you?” Anthony asked.
I shrugged. “I was just trying to make conversation. You can answer however you’d like; I didn’t want to put you on the spot.”
“But you weren’t looking for the truth, were you?” Anthony asked. “What did you really want to know?”
Thrown by his direct line of questioning and surprised by the melting edges of his sharp exterior, I fell quiet. “Uh…” My heart picked up speed. “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t mean anything.”
“I’m not always great at a relationship like this, so do me a favor, Lacey. Don’t be so shy that you never ask for what you want. Or tell me what you need. Or show me how you feel.” He turned his gaze up to me, his dark eyes unsure. “If you layer it with hidden meaning, the chances are high that I won’t catch on to what you honestly want.”
I felt my own smile appear so genuine it crinkled the laugh lines around my eyes. My aging, thirty-year-old eyes. “This coming from the man with the best Spidey Senses I know. However, if you can’t read the convoluted, hidden meanings behind all of my half-baked questions, then we might have a huge problem.”
Anthony’s eyes reflected panic.
“I’m sorry, that was a joke,” I said quickly. “Listen, I’m a girl – sometimes I don’t always know exactly what I’m feeling. I cry for no reason and I’ll twist your words into something I know you didn’t mean when you said them. We’ll disagree and we’ll have miscommunications, but that’s okay.” I smiled. “Because we’ll talk about it and figure it out. If you’re willing to give it a shot, I am.”
Anthony looked a bit overwhelmed, and to be honest – I didn’t know where that load of emotional content had come from. Yikes! Turning thirty did scary things to a person.
“What do you—” Anthony started, but I reached over and pressed a finger none-too-gently against his lips.
“Anthony, relax,” I said. “Neither of us is in a place to rush anything. You mentioned this relationship we have…I’m not even sure what it is.”
Anthony’s lips puckered against my finger, but he seemed too scared to move.
Eleven fifty-eight. I glanced at the clock. Two minutes left of being twenty-nine.
“But don’t worry,” I said. “I’m okay with that.”
As I let my finger slip away from his lips, I realized I was okay. We were okay. Whatever this was, we didn’t need to move any faster or slower – my gut feeling told me that I was right where I should be in this moment. And that was enough.
Eleven fifty-nine – a crazy thought rushed through my head. I had one minute left in my twenties – why not make the most of it? I leaned forward, meaning to take charge and be the first to kiss Anthony. Somehow, I was already too late.
His hands grabbed my freshly blow-dried hair, pulled it deliciously tight against my scalp, and pressed his lips to mine. I tangled with the seatbelt for a long, embarrassing minute before I could withdraw my hand and wrap it around his neck. While one of his hands held the back of my head tight, the other wrapped around my waist, his fingers toying with the bottom of my standard black tank top. The tips of his fingers brushed against my skin, sending jolts of desire through my veins.
His lips were soft, yet forceful, demanding I focus on him. Though somehow, through it all, I managed a quick glance at the car’s green LED clock display.
Midnight.
Anthony pulled back as my eyes slid towards the front of the car and latched onto the glow from the digits. Not wanting the moment to stop, I took advantage of his hesitation. He pulled slightly away, scanning my face for signs that something was wrong. I gave him a smile that started deep in my soul and couldn’t help but blossom on my face.
If this is what thirty felt like, bring it on.
“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. I didn’t stop to think that it was the tiniest bit awkward I’d thanked him for the kiss. I temporarily forgot that he had no way of knowing he’d started my birthday off with a bang, turning it into something quite special.
“For wha—” Anthony began.
But before he could continue, I pushed the dratted seatbelt out of my way, climbed to my knees, and held his face between my hands. Giving him my best mischievous grin, I leaned in close and traced my fingers down the side of his face; his eyes closed as the tips of my fingers trailed past, his jaw quivered as I touched his cheek, and by the time I pressed lightly against the rough tattoo of the word Italy on his neck, he was more still than a statue.
Cupping his cheek with my other hand I pressed the lightest feather of a kiss to his lips. Our skin barely touched, but the moment was filled with a sweetness and gentleness of which I’d only ever dreamed.
Sitting back in my seat, I re-buckled up and waited patiently, letting the moment hang heavy in the air. Anthony kept his eyes closed for a prolonged minute, his breaths coming in barely audible waves. I rested my head back against the car seat, wondering for a moment if I’d ruined everything. Maybe I’d been too forward. Maybe all he wanted was one night with me. I hadn’t thought so, but…
Anthony opened his eyes and broke my train of worrisome thoughts with an upwards quirk of his lips that nearly melted my heart on the spot.
“Well,” he cleared his throat and pulled himself up higher in his seat. He rested one hand against the steering wheel. “You’re welcome, I guess.”
I burst out laughing, and for a moment he looked confused – scared, even. But when he saw the tears start to leak from the corners of my eyes, he joined in. Together we guffawed so loudly, so enthusiastically, it was a wonder one of his men didn’t call up from the warehouse and warn us to be quiet.
“You’re cute,” I said, unable to help myself. “You question criminals who’ve stolen millions of dollars and thrown people in trunks who’ve tried to kill you. Who would’ve thought a kiss could disarm you?”
A mixture of emotions toyed on Anthony’s face. I could tell a part of him was almost offended, as if he were upset I’d discovered his Kryptonite. Finally, however, he shook his head with an amused eye roll. “Don’t tell anyone, or else.”
“Or else…what?” I toyed, leaning over the center console and hanging my head teasingly close to his lips.
I heard a low noise build in Anthony’s throat, and I pulled back before he could kiss my words away once more. His mouth worked like a memory charm on me – kiss and poof! Couldn’t remember anything I’d ever intended to say.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “Your secret’s safe with me. I don’
t kiss and tell.”
Anthony looked as if he wanted to attack me in one way or another, but before he could lay a finger on me, his watch blinked a brilliant white light.
“Message,” he said with a grunt.
As disappointed as I was, I also felt no small amount of satisfaction that he seemed just as disappointed as I was that we’d been interrupted.
“What is it?” I asked, as Anthony pulled out his phone and read a text in Italian that I couldn’t understand.
“They found something,” he said. “Are you ready?”
Chapter 8
“I meant to tell you something,” I said as Anthony and I jogged down the staircase inside the parking garage. According to Anthony, it was too dangerous to take an elevator while on a stakeout. I didn’t believe him; I would bet all my money (if I had any) that it was just the gym trainer in him taking pleasure in making my quads burn.
Anthony nearly ran into me as I stopped on the second floor and turned around.
“Did you hear me?” I repeated. “I meant to tell you something.”
“Is now really the time?” Anthony asked, his arm sliding all too easily in place around my waist. He held me in a one-armed hug, and I was a bit surprised to see that his usual “business face” hadn’t been put on yet. During moments of action, he didn’t usually take any risks – no goofing off, no flirting, no jokes. Well, sometimes flirting, but just a little bit.
The way he was acting now – casting suggestive gazes over my body, smiling lazily as a one-armed hug turned into a two-armed squeeze – was unusual. His arms hooked around my lower back and his face remained relaxed and smiling.
“Is now the proper time for this?” I asked, looking down. I didn’t pull away, however. I didn’t have the willpower to take a step back. It felt so nice to be tucked safely in his embrace, so for a birthday gift to myself, I savored the warmth.
Anthony ran a hand through his already ruffled hair. “Fine,” he said. “Your choice to stop this, not mine. What is it you wanted to tell me?”
I almost told him to forget about it, but he was already off down the last flight of stairs, taking them two at a time. He stopped and waited for me at the bottom while I hustled to catch up, urging myself to stay on the topic of business.
“You know how I looked like a garbage disposal earlier tonight?” I asked. “At Meg’s bar.”
“A cute disposal,” he said, holding the garage door open for me to walk through first.
“Wow, lovely manners,” I said in a fake English accent before I marched through. “Thank you, dahling.”
“Keep it up and I’ll take you right back to the car,” Anthony said, tugging on the back waistband of my pants.
I whirled in a circle. “All right, what’s up?” I asked, his finger still hooked half in my pants. “This isn’t like you. We’re on a mission and you’re threatening to bring me back up to the car.”
“Which part is so unusual?” he asked.
My cheeks could’ve been a pair of plums. “Well neither is separately suspicious, but put together – usually you don’t mix business and pleasure.”
Anthony’s lips parted with a comment he didn’t have to say aloud. I instantly regretted my word choice.
“What is it you had to tell me?” he asked instead. “I apologize for distracting you.”
Thankful for the question, I wriggled away from his prying fingers, remembering the wild chase Meg and I had survived in Stillwater only hours ago. The memory of my wacky hair was enough to make my blood boil all over again.
“I didn’t tell you the whole truth about what happened earlier today,” I said.
“Go figure,” Anthony said, though his eyes showed no signs of surprise. “You didn’t tell me much of anything.”
“So technically it was an omission then, and not a lie,” I pointed out.
Anthony crossed his arms, perching against the pillar of the building. He checked his watch. “We have five minutes before they’re expecting us. Start talking.”
“Meg and I couldn’t find Dave or his special sauce anywhere today,” I started, looking down at my hands, which were clasped together for lack of something better to do. “We looked for ages, riding up and down the same street, asking questions all over Stillwater. We even stopped to ask directions. Twice.”
“Was one of those two occasions a stop at a candy store?” he asked.
“Maybe.”
“A very special candy store with samples?”
“Maybe,” I said. “But you’re missing the point. My hands are still vibrating, thanks to riding on Meg’s bike all day.”
“So which part are you still not telling me?” Anthony asked.
“Remember Horatio, Clay’s friend?” I gestured as if I had a volleyball strapped to my stomach. Anthony nodded, and I continued. “He gave us his grandmother’s phone number. She’s apparently lived there all her life. What he forgot to tell us is that she’s a witch.”
Anthony’s lips pressed tightly together. “Yes, of course. A magic one?”
“Seriously!”
“Are we talking literal or figurative here?” he asked.
I thought for a moment, biting my lower lip to stall. “Both,” I said eventually. “It’s hard to say.”
“I didn’t take you for the type to believe in magic.”
“She was very convincing,” I said, a hand on my hip. “But anyway, that’s not what I wanted to tell you. Long story short, I made a deal with her—”
“If I hear you’ve sold your soul to the devil…” Anthony interrupted.
“Then that would make two of us, wouldn’t it?” I shot back. “But in response to your question, no, I didn’t hawk my soul to Satan. But the woman does cook up an amazingly good sauce. She offered to make us enough for the barbecue if we couldn’t find Dave’s Special Sauce.”
“In exchange for what?”
“That’s the weird part,” I said.
“Because the rest of this story isn’t weird at all,” Anthony pointed out.
I glared at him. “She asked us to find out what was going on at this house on Sixty-sixth Street in Stillwater. Meg and I figured that she was just concerned about a new guy moving to the neighborhood and it’d be an easy peasy, lemon squeezy sort of task. Just show up, say hello, and leave.”
“I’m guessing that’s not what happened,” Anthony said.
“I wouldn’t be telling you if it was,” I said with an agreeing nod of my head. “Nothing is ever easy peasy, apparently.”
“Nothing?” Anthony stepped forward and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, though his hand didn’t pull away afterward. He brushed his fingers against my earlobe and dragged them with painstaking softness down my neck. “Hmm.”
By the time I realized my mouth was half open, I was annoyed at myself for letting him take my mind off the issue at hand, once again. “Fine. Maybe you’re easy,” I said, snapping my mouth shut and opening my eyes, which had at some point closed during Anthony’s gentle caress.
Anthony laughed a deep belly laugh, but when he looked at me with a wink, his voice was serious. “Not as easy as you think, sugar.”
I gulped, but I didn’t have anything to follow it up.
“About the deal with the witch?” Anthony prompted.
I blinked and continued the story. “At first glance, the guy on Sixty-sixth Street appeared to be a normal dude. Er, normal-ish with the exception of really greasy hair,” I amended. “But when we poked around a little bit more—”
“Is ‘poked around’ code for ‘stuck your nose where it didn’t belong and trespassed on an innocent person’s property’?” he asked.
“That’s the thing,” I said. “I don’t think he’s so innocent.”
Anthony nodded with skepticism, and the fact that I’d ignored that whole part about trespassing without real cause was evidently not lost on him. He sighed. “What makes you think he’s not innocent?”
“The fact that he shot his gun at us,�
�� I said. My voice raised a few notches. I hadn’t meant to burst out with the goods so early on, but his skepticism got the better of me and I wanted him to take me seriously.
It worked. Any sign of a smirk or a smile was stripped clean from Anthony’s face. “He shot what at you?”
The murderous undertones had me backpedaling. “I mean, I don’t think he was trying to hurt us.”
“Why else would you shoot a gun at someone?” Anthony’s very good-sized bicep twitched.
“That is a very logical question,” I said, stalling until I could think of an answer. “To scare them?”
“Why would he need to scare two young women away?” Anthony asked, stepping close to me. I backed up, my eyes stinging the tiniest amount with emotion.
“You think I’m young?” I asked weakly. As a new thirty-year-old, I’d take all the reassurance I could get.
Anthony kept walking and I kept back-stepping until my rear end hit the cement pillar at the edge of the parking garage. He reached an arm over my shoulder and rested his palm against the cement pillar, trapping my body where I stood. “Why would he need to scare you away?”
I started to shrug, but Anthony’s expression said he didn’t want to be messed with. “We explored parts of his yard that we weren’t invited to. Meg had a suspicious feeling, then we found this dirt path – one thing led to another – and we found a cabin tucked away on his property.”
“Meg has mistaken hunger pangs for ‘suspicious feelings’ before,” Anthony said. “I don’t see what’s wrong with a man building a cabin on his own property.”
“It’s not the cabin,” I said. “It’s what he keeps in the cabin. It looked like he was carrying a sack of guns out to the shack when he drove by us on his four-wheeler. Meg and I were almost caught, but we managed to hop onto her bike and take off. Unfortunately, we weren’t exactly sneaky about it.”
“Did he see you?” Anthony asked.
“He doesn’t know who we are,” I said.
“But he saw you.”
“We didn’t tell him our names,” I said.
