by Elsa Jade
“Where’d she go?” Callie asked.
“She went on to Athens,” Rafe answered, looking at her in the back seat through the rearview mirror.
“Is she safe?” Callie’s forehead creased with worry.
Rafe went silent for a moment. Her voice still could affect him, even though he hadn’t seen her in weeks. He reflected on the time they’d spent together in Dallas before she and Vax… He wrestled control of his thoughts and pushed them away.
Vax glanced at him, then answered. “We have cousins in Athens, so she has somewhere safe to go.”
“True,” Rafe said. “Plus I sent someone to keep an eye on her.”
“Who?” Vax asked.
Rafe smirked. “I called Gavin. Asked if he had anyone he could recommend in Athens who would freelance and keep an eye on her.”
“Shit.” Vax laughed. “If Sophie figures it out, she’ll come looking for your ass.”
“She needs to be protected from herself sometimes. You know her penchant for getting into situations.” Rafe couldn’t resist joining his brother in laughter.
“Amen,” Vax added.
“She may hate me after this. Gavin said that Niko has a way of rubbing people the wrong way. Women, specifically. Gavin also said that Niko’s one of the best at what he does.”
“She’s avoiding Gio?” Callie asked, her voice laced with worry.
“Like the plague. Pretty sure she’s figured out he’s going to try to get at least one of his kids to side with him on the ‘issues’. And since most everyone else is either rebellious or being held hostage—his words—she’s his last option.”
Callie sighed. It was no secret that Callie was one of the “issues” that Gio wanted to see dealt with.
“So she ran away. Typical Sophie.” Vax laughed.
Rafe bit back his response. He didn’t want to remind Vax that what he’d done could be called running away, since he had slipped off to America. Vax had departed Rome for America and the one left to follow in their father’s footsteps was Rafe.
It was now expected that Rafe run the Tiero family’s European interests. All this because his older brother Vax had left town and violated the Tiero shifter code by taking a human as a mate.
Long ago, Rafe had been the favorite. And then he’d started to act up. Rafe had spent so much time in and out of the favored position with Gio that he’d given up on making anyone happy but himself.
He couldn’t even do that now, since what he wanted was forbidden fruit. Can’t be happy when you want the forbidden.
“How’s Maia?” Callie asked. “Did she make it in?”
Rafe frowned. The attractive, curvy leopard shifter whom his family had saved from a terrible fate in an underground shifter death match was quietly elusive. She kept to herself, her dark eyes intense and holding secrets he didn’t want to begin to uncover. “She’s here. She took a job. She stays in one of the upstairs bedrooms.”
“Is she private? Pretty much solitary?” Vax asked.
“That’s how she was in Dallas,” Callie said. “She didn’t seem to be interested in making friendships or anything. She just did her job, then went to her apartment.”
“Same here,” Rafe told them.
He didn’t add that Maia seemed to have developed feelings for him. She would come downstairs and have a cup of coffee with him or an occasional meal, but for the most part, she stayed in her room. And even when they were together, she didn’t talk about herself. She simply sat there, more often than not silent, poised as if she was ready to bounce up and make a quick escape.
Rafe applied more pressure on the gas. He was ready to be away from Callie. The wound was still there.
He raced them to the Tiero family home as fast as he could drive in Rome’s hectic traffic, skirting around drivers who thought they were a part of NASCAR. Sharp turns down narrow cobbled alleys, street vendors, and tourists—all of these contributed to making Rafe’s drive longer than he wanted it to be.
As soon as they’d stepped out of the car, Callie begged off, claiming her feet were swollen, her head ached, and her stomach was churning.
But Rafe could see it in her eyes. She knew he still had feelings for her. And she felt pity for him.
Fuck. I don’t need pity.
“Take care of your woman. We’ll visit later. I’ve got some things to tend to,” Rafe told Vax, and headed out as quickly as his Porsche would take him.
Chapter Two
‡
With his brother and his mate safely deposited at the house, Rafe sat in a mostly empty little café with too much on his mind and found himself wishing that he could drink, but of course—damn the luck—alcohol had no effect on shifters.
Can’t even get a good drunk on.
Rafe glanced around the café. Could he have found a more hole-in-the-wall place? The barista was spending more time with her boyfriend than she was with the customers.
Okay, if he had to be honest, he was the only customer.
This wasn’t the same barista who had waited on him when he first got here. Had he been here long enough for a shift change? Maybe he’d come right before shift change. He hated to think he’d blown a whole lot of time in here. Though, who gave a damn? It wasn’t like he was in a hurry to get home to Vax and Callie.
He locked gazes for a brief second with the barista. All curves. She gave him a cursory, who-gives-a-damn look and turned her attention away.
And what did he care if the pretty brunette with the hellacious curves paid him no attention? He wanted Callie, he reminded himself. And the barista clearly had a boyfriend.
He ran his gaze over her boyfriend at the counter. The guy was busy playing with the gaping holes in his ears created by some sort of disc earrings.
Rafe didn’t get that fad. He didn’t fault anyone for their fashion taste, but he just flat out didn’t get it.
He took another sip of the espresso. Not a bad cup, for a dive on the outskirts of the tourist part of Rome.
A set of hips entered his view. Sashaying, swaying, tempting. They flared upward to a smaller waist. A fist was planted on each of the luscious hips. He let his gaze trail down over her mound, not allowing himself to linger there, then over her legs in tight black painted-on pants, finally ending up at feminine feet that were tipped with crimson, no-shit, blood-red crimson nail polish. Then he noticed that every other toe was painted pitch black. Two of the petite digits were garnished with silver rings.
And damn if the weirdest thought didn’t cross his mind—he wondered how they would feel against his tongue. And he wasn’t even the kind to get into feet.
The hands came off the hips, and fingers snapped, practically in front of his face.
The fingers were the same color red as the toes. No black polish, though.
“Well?” The voice was sultry.
His tiger rumbled.
The voice was low.
His tiger snarled in agreement.
The voice was sex.
His tiger roared in his head, drowning everything out.
Pure sex.
Chapter Three
‡
Jaclyn Vasquez was called Jax by everyone but her parents. Never her parents. Never, ever her parents. They hated the name Jax.
She glanced up from her textbook and studied the dark-skinned, dark-haired, delicious, brooding stranger in the corner. She took the opportunity to watch him while he was looking away.
Something was on his mind. The way his jaw muscle was working overtime, yes, something definitely had his mind tied up. Probably a woman. What else would it be?
A guy that gorgeous in a coffee shop not far from the university, on a Thursday night—a dead Thursday night, to boot. She felt a warmth rising to her cheeks as she watched him. It was almost like she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him.
What the hell is wrong with me? I have a boyfriend.
Some boyfriend. She glanced at Scotty, who was fingering his ears.
He plays video
games all day long, burps and farts, drinks beer, and wants to have sex while he’s watching other people play games online.
She wished she could close up early and go. She needed to write that paper and submit it before nine o’clock tomorrow morning. She shoved a pencil into her hair, using it to hold her curls in a sloppy bun.
The sexy stranger turned his head. She glanced down quickly, not wanting to be caught watching him.
Sexy? No, she didn’t think that. She couldn’t think that.
A burp, loud, disgusting, and vile, caught her attention. “Seriously,” she muttered and gave Scotty a dirty look.
“What, babe?” He gave her that grin that made panties drop. Used to make hers drop.
Wait. What? Where did the “used to” part come in?
Still made hers drop, she told herself, not looking at the stranger with the intensely dark blue eyes. It wasn’t like Scotty wasn’t a popular guy, at least on the computer. The gaming community loved him.
And he said he’d be world famous one day. He said he was destined to be. One day, he said, one day…
If you asked Scotty, he was the premier gamer in the world. He had his own social media channel and one day soon he’d have the most subscribers in the world.
According to Scotty, gamer girls thought he was the premier gamer already.
Scotty winked at her with a leer.
Really? she wanted to say, but didn’t.
The café’s phone rang.
Jeez. Now what?
It rang again.
I’m not answering it.
And another ring.
What if it’s the boss?
“Fuck,” Jax groaned under her breath. She leaned across the counter, not bothering to go around it, and picked up the wall unit.
“DiMarsio’s.” She put a smile in her voice.
“You’re not answering at your apartment,” said a voice she knew too well. “So I wondered if you were working. I told your father you probably were. It’s a good thing we have the number.”
“Mom.”
Scotty’s head snapped up. He was all attention now.
Jax held her fingers in front of her lips. He’d better be quiet. Her parents might be an ocean away, but they still had a way to get to her, to make her feel like she wasn’t much more than a fuck-up.
Mom thought she’d dumped Scotty.
Or so Jax had told her folks. It wasn’t hard to hide Scotty living with her. It wasn’t like her parents lived in Italy.
She breathed a sigh of relief and joy that they lived so far away.
The moment she’d moved into her apartment in Rome, she’d instant messaged Scotty and he’d hoofed it over from the U.K. That was three months ago. Her parents had met him once, when he’d visited her in Baton Rouge. She shuddered at the memory of that fiasco.
But why was Mom calling? “Is Dad okay?”
“He’s fine. We’re both fine. You should check your messages.”
“Phone’s dead, Mom.” Did she really have to get a lecture on message checking? “If you’d sent an email, I’d have gotten it.”
“You know how I am about computers.” Her mother’s standard reply.
What is it this time? Jax wondered. Some juicy Baton Rouge gossip that merited a phone call?
“Give me some money,” Scotty growled in her other ear. “I need some Jack.”
Jax put her hand over his mouth, gave him a dirty look.
“Sorry, Mom. I’m at work. Can I call you right back?” Right back being after I get home.
Or in a week. Or two.
Scotty snapped his fingers at her, then made the finger rubbing gesture between his thumb and index finger. He wanted money bad. Actually, no, he didn’t need money. He’d tell you that in a heartbeat. It was easy to say when someone else was supporting him. But it really wasn’t the money that he wanted. That wasn’t his endgame tonight.
Tonight, he wanted Jack bad.
Jack Daniel’s. Scotty’s best friend.
Jax planted her palm on his chest and pushed him away. She slipped her fingers into her apron pocket, grabbed some bills and tossed them his way, mouthing the word, “Go.”
Scotty reached out, grabbed her ass, and planted his lips on the side of her neck, then sucked enough flesh with enough strength to leave a mark. She rolled her eyes at him.
He had to get a job.
Hand over the phone, she shook her head, kissed his cheek, gave him a smile, and waved him away.
Jax held so tight to the phone her fingers hurt. “Sorry, Mom. Customers.”
She glanced at the stranger in the corner. The way he was watching her, she could swear she felt his gaze like a touch. Felt it in every nerve ending. Crazy intense, that’s what he was. His lips moved, almost a smile. Just one corner went up, not quite into a smile, but not into a smirk either.
She fumed. He was amused by her predicament? D-bag.
She turned her back on him. “No, Mom. I’m not ignoring you. I heard you.” Actually she hadn’t, but God, her mother would start complaining if she copped to that.
“Okay, then Dad and I will be waiting for you at the apartment.”
Jax started to hyperventilate. “Wait. Wait.”
What? What?!? What did she just say?
“Um.”
Gulp.
“Mom?”
“Yes?” Her mother’s voice was way too sticky sweet. Way too innocent.
She’s pulling my leg. They aren’t coming. They aren’t here. “Never mind. I should have known you were kidding—”
“Jaclyn.” Mom’s no-nonsense tone. “I’m not kidding. And I knew you weren’t paying attention. I just knew it.”
She picks this time of all times to decide to test my listening skills?
“Mom. Don’t joke like that.”
Is that my own voice? I sound like I’m in a panic.
Because she was in a panic. She fought the urge to laugh hysterically and thought of her apartment. Scotty’s shit scattered all over the place…
Oh. My. God.
Scotty!
He was probably going to head over there with his newly acquired bottle of Jack.
The Jack I paid for.
“We’re on the way right now.”
“You’re not in Rome. You’re not in Italy.”
They can’t be.
She pictured her parents, sitting on the screened-in porch in Baton Rouge, relaxing with sweet tea. There was no way they were in Italy.
“If you’d check your messages, you’d know. We left you several. Your dad got a great deal on a cruise and a flight. Those frequent flier mile things pay off. Aren’t you thrilled? Your dad’s so excited to be in the land of his great-great-grandfather. He’s—”
Stop the fucking madness.
Head spinning, Jax had to end her mother’s monologue. “I’m not going home, Mom.”
Quick. I need to think, quickly. I need a plan. First, she cursed herself for not having charged her phone. Where the hell was it, anyway?
Oh, who gives a damn?
Her mind was wandering all over the place. It felt like it was bouncing more than those little pop rock candies used to pop in her mouth.
Think.
Think.
Think, dammit.
She turned around, a whirlwind of a circle, and looked at the stranger with the dark blue eyes who was clearly eavesdropping. His gaze glittered dark and dangerous in the dimly lit café.
The stranger raised a brow. Looked at her as if he found her to be an interesting little scientific experiment.
An idea came to her. It could work. With his help. Would he help? Sure he would. She’d charm him into helping. Ugh. She’d never been good at the charming game.
Jax covered the phone with her hand. “What’s your name?” she hissed at the dark-haired, too-sexy man.
He merely looked at her.
Goddammit. I don’t have the time to piss around waiting for this shit.
“Just a minute, Mo
m.” Jax set the phone down on the counter and laid a white, coffee-streaked towel over it in case she needed to muffle any sounds.
He still hadn’t answered.
She stalked over to the stranger and put her hands on her hips. “Well?”
Chapter Four
‡
Rafe was wrong. Way wrong. The voice was more than low, husky, and sexy.
The voice was dangerously angry.
She tapped crimson nails on her painted-on pants, drawing his sight to those thighs, those fingertips, thinking all the wrong—but Christ, so very right—thoughts.
“Well, what?” he asked her.
“I asked you your name.”
He let out a scoffing laugh at her attitude and her demand. “That’s none of your business.”
“Look.” Panic made her eyes wide.
What the hell is she afraid of?
“I need to know your name. Like, now.”
He tilted his head, studying the curvy, dark-haired beauty. “You’re not Italian. You have an American accent.” It reminded him of the accents in Texas, a little. But different, somehow.
“Who gives a damn if I’m American or not?” She glanced at the counter, where the phone that she’d covered with a towel was, then turned back to Rafe. “I need you.”
He laughed. He couldn’t do anything but laugh. She had a loser boyfriend and she was in the middle of a conversation with her mother. He’d tried to tune it out, but had heard snatches.
Damned shifter hearing.
His tiger snarled, but playfully, because the tiger knew Rafe wasn’t serious. Rafe and his tiger were tight. Peas in a pod. He wasn’t one of those shifters who battled with his tiger for power. They were one, and a damned good team, if you asked him.
“I need you,” he repeated. “That’s a hell of a pickup line.” He stood, and put his hand on his zipper. “But alright, I’m in.”
*
Jax’s mouth dropped open. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot.
Oh, no, he wasn’t.
With an amused look on his face, this devastatingly sexy, darkly dangerous, indigo-eyed sex on a stick plucked at his zipper and pulled it down a notch.
