“Wrong? Dirty?” His tone turns cold.
“Why do you continue to come back to this dirty shit?” I turn the key, releasing my other wrist from the handcuffs, then drop them on the desk.
“Nothing. Whatever.” He steps away from me, turning and walking to his window behind his desk. “If you have anything you want to ask, just get it over with so we can be done.”
“D?”
“Don’t,” he barks. “You want this professional, fine. Do your job, detective. What are you here for?”
Pushing off his desk, I pull up my jacket, smoothing my clothes, and then grab the handcuffs, walking out without another word. He doesn’t try to stop me and that etches its way under my skin.
10
I wrap up the rest of the week without hearing from Drago. I drove past the docks a couple of times, but I didn’t stop any of the times I saw his vehicle parked outside. Yesterday, I approached two of his employees, asking a couple of questions, but they both shut me down and quickly walked off.
I hung around for a minute, watching. The blonde, Rebecca De Luca, the one I saw the first time I went inside the warehouse, kept stepping out of the loading bay eyeing me. She’s the only daughter of the notorious, Alessandro De Luca, who from everything I’ve gathered, Vincent Acerbi brought with him to America from Italy.
Mr. De Luca has been in and out of jail more times than anyone I’ve ever known, yet, he’s never served more than six months behind bars. He may be dirtier than Drago’s father if the rumors and stories have even half-truth behind them.
Mike once told me the most horrid scene he’s ever shown up to was a family slaughtered. Their seventeen-year-old son was brutally beaten, only breaths away from death himself. The boy claimed De Luca himself murdered his parents and two sisters, but before an official statement could be taken, the boy disappeared from the hospital he was taken to, even with police protection. Sadly, his body was found days later, chopped into pieces and discarded down a dirty alleyway.
A knock pulls me from my thoughts. My eyes immediately flicker down to where Gabe is laying on his belly on a pallet on the floor. He’s startled at the loud bang on my door.
We haven’t been home long. Ms. Lincoln and I took him back to the after-hours clinic her daughter works at for another check-up. I wanted to make sure he was putting on the weight he needs. So far, he’s gained eight ounces in the three weeks I’ve had him. I was a little disappointed it wasn’t more, but the nurse practitioner said it was perfectly normal and we didn’t want him to gain weight too fast. Slow and steady was what she said was healthier for him. I felt more at ease when she told us that.
“Shh,” I soothe him by running my palm down his back once before climbing to my feet.
Stephanie was right. He is a good baby. And he’s already sleeping longer at night, which is definitely good for me.
Another harder and louder bang sounds through the wood from the other side of the door.
“I’m coming,” I say in a high-pitched voice but not so loud it’ll scare Gabe.
I look through the peephole seeing the source of my sour mood all week. Drago. My belly instantly warms despite still being pissed at him.
What in the hell is he doing here, at my residence? For a brief moment, I ponder whether or not I should answer the door. He already knows I’m home because I went and opened my big mouth, and even though I know I shouldn’t open the door, I do want to know why he’s here.
Flipping the lock on the door, I open it partially and stare at the jackass. His eyes are cast to the floor. Slowly, they rise to meet mine. He doesn’t construe the confidence I’ve always witnessed before this moment. His eyes are apologizing, yet I don’t get the feeling he’s the apologizing type.
I’m the first to break the silence. “Is there a reason you’re here or are you planning on standing there all night looking like a scolded puppy, not knowing what to say?”
“I’ve felt like a scolded dog all week.” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I can—”
He’s cut off by the sound of a cry, making me whip around and dart over to Gabe, kneeling beside him. He’s managed to flip over onto his back and I’m doing a happy dance inside because that must have taken some strength to do. This is awesome. I feel like I’ve won the lottery at this victory.
“You have a kid,” he whispers, almost to himself.
Looking up, I see he’s entered my condo, standing just inside the door.
“Yes, I mean no,” I shake my head. “He’s not mine,” I clarify.
“You’re watching him?”
“Ye-yes.” He quirks an eyebrow at the stutter in my voice. “Let’s just say he’s in my care for an uncertain amount of time.” I quickly follow up before he asks more questions. “It’s not up for discussion. He’s work related and I can’t divulge anything else.” Dishonesty colors my insides.
I can’t tell him who he is, but then that makes me wonder, does he know? Had he ever met Chasity’s baby? His baby, or alleged baby?
I watch him and he’s looking at the infant on my floor. His eyes are clear, but there is a curiosity in them. No recognition though, at least not that I see. That doesn’t mean he’s not masking the truth. That’s still left to be seen.
“Okay, then,” he concedes, not inquiring further. “Can we talk?”
“Personal or case-related?”
“Both.”
“I . . .” I start to groan, knowing this will go down a road I may not come back from.
“Please, Bri.” The raw emotion I see in his warm eyes I want to be lost in, makes me waver; does me in every time.
Nodding, he takes my agreement as an opportunity to close the door, then proceeds to sit in the chair next to my couch, only a few feet from where Gabe and I are on the floor.
“Talk to me, I guess,” I tell him when he doesn’t speak. “Why are you here?”
“Because I acted like a jerk.”
“You’re just coming to that realization now?”
I pick Gabe up, bringing his front to my chest, cradling him, when his whimpers start to increase. He does this when he wants to be held, which is often. I know I’m not supposed to hold him as much as I do. I’m creating a habit that’ll be hard to break when he leaves me.
“No, I knew it the second it came out of my mouth.” I take my eyes from looking down at the baby, moving them to pierce Drago with a look that I know tells him his words and actions aren’t acceptable. A man shouldn’t treat a woman—or anyone for that matter—the way he did me. Sure, I should not have allowed it to escalate. I let my personal attraction to him interfere with the reason I was there. “I know, and I’m sorry, Bri,” he says, acknowledging my thoughts.
Tucking one of Gabriel’s arms underneath mine, I anchor him tighter, rocking back and forth like he likes. Instantly his eyes start to droop.
“Lines are starting to blur,” I finally admit out loud.
“A line would have to exist in order to blur.” He scoots off the chair, coming to the floor with me. Leaning his back against the leg rest on the recliner, he remains a couple of feet from me. “Maybe there was at one point. Whatever line that existed disappeared the moment you stepped out of that car and placed your hand in mine.”
My eyes cut to the side, thinking about what he’s just delivered, and he’s right. And that means I’m screwed in more ways than one.
“I acted like an asshole, I know that, and I can’t ever say I won’t again, because I can get pissed off when something I want isn’t panning out. But I don’t generally act dickish to a woman. I am sorry, B, it won’t happen again.”
“B?” I smile, liking that a little too easily. Other than my brother calling me Belle, or Alana shortening my name to Bri years ago, I don’t have any nicknames.
He shrugs, then his eyes dip and I’m not sure if he’s watching Gabe or my chest. The swoop neck on my white tank top does nothing to conceal my cleavage and with the baby against them, they are pushed highe
r than they normally would be.
“So, how old is the kid? Four to six weeks?”
Disappointment that it’s the baby makes me feel a touch of guilt. I shouldn’t want him looking at me, but oh, how I do.
“Three months, actually.”
His face screws up. “He’s three months old?” he questions, unbelieving me.
“Yeah.” I hate admitting that out loud, even though it’s not my fault he’s so tiny and I’m doing everything I can to put weight on the little guy. But if this is Drago’s son, that’s another sign that I don’t think he knows who this is. Gabriel is too young to tell if he resembles him and I won’t know the truth until the DNA test comes back. More guilt eats at me from stealing his toothbrush that morning in his bathroom. He hasn’t mentioned it missing and I’m not bringing it up, but I needed something. That at least got the chief off my back when I told him this week I’d manage to snag something that would tell us if Gabriel is, in fact, Drago’s son.
“Someone may want to give that boy a hamburger.”
“He’s a baby, he can’t have any solid foods yet.” He can’t be serious, I think.
“It’s an expression and yeah, he can start having things like baby cereal at that age. Luca did with Mia and she’s perfectly healthy. It’s generally when you start introducing those things. And as little as he is, you might want to do that soon.”
“How do you know so much about babies?”
I know his mom died when his siblings were young, but they weren’t babies.
“I have a niece, Mia.”
What? The question sounds off in my head. Why don’t I know this already? My research on him and his family was thorough and nothing came up about a niece. How did I miss something that big?
My face must give me away.
“You’re wondering why you don’t already know this, aren’t you?” He’s smiling, not offended by my sour expression.
Gabe squirms, a cry coming out of his mouth.
Drago pops up on his knees, facing my suede chair. “Bring him over here.”
Getting on my knees, I stand, holding him to me a little tighter so I don’t accidentally drop him or if I fall, he’ll be more secure.
“Hand him to me.” I stop in my tracks, almost taking a step backward. What if he does know he’s really his and this is his chance to grab him? My gut isn’t telling me that though. “Did we establish that I know more about kids than you do?”
“No.” I sound offended, because until Gabriel came along, I thought I knew everything I needed to know. “I have two nieces and a nephew, thank you.”
“I know.” His head bobs, my eyebrow shooting up. “You aren’t the only one that does that research. You didn’t think I did a thorough background check when I saw you squatting in my parking lot?”
“I wasn’t squatting.”
“Just spying on innocent people.” There’s no trace of anger in his tone. “Are you going to hand him over or not?”
Finally, I step forward, then bending, I place Gabe down in Drago’s arms. I almost gasp at the sight, but luckily, he turns, not witnessing the flutters happening in my stomach.
Fuck me if that isn’t the sexiest thing I’ve seen in all of my twenty-nine years of life.
He cradles him exactly like you’re supposed to hold a small baby. He’s so gentle for such a large man.
I watch, placing my hand over my mouth to make sure I don’t moan, as he places Gabriel down on the soft fabric of the recliner, all the way against the back, then sitting on his haunches, he slowly rocks the chair.
Hell, I’d totally forgot it did that. It’s one of the reasons I never sit in it. I hate the rocking, but shit, I could have used this so many times already. I kick myself.
In no time at all, Gabriel is asleep.
“You can admit I’m better than you at this.” He bites down on his bottom lip to stop the smile on his face from spreading.
Without much thought, I straddle him, subconsciously saying to hell with the consequences.
He goes from sitting back on his ankles to his ass on the floor. Sliding his feet back, his knees come up, lifting me above him. I wrap my hands gently around his neck. I can’t control my lips tipping up as I look down into those alluring eyes.
“Admit you like me, Bri.”
I shouldn’t admit that, but I know it’s written all over my face; it’s in my actions.
I pull a deep breath of air in; turning serious, I tell him, “Look me in the eyes and tell me there is no validity in the claims against you. Tell me you aren’t a criminal. That you don’t import anything illegal. That you don’t do anything illegal.”
“You said you already believe I’m innocent.” The easy smile on his face vanishes in a flash, replaced with irritation maybe.
“My gut may think that, but I need to hear you say it. Tell me, and I’ll do everything within my power to prove to my department, to my chief, that you aren’t in bed with Diaz. That you aren’t a bad person.”
“And if I don’t?” His eyebrows turn in. “Will you do everything to prove I’m guilty?”
“No. I’ll find the truth no matter what,” I answer. “Don’t bring the asshole back out,” I warn.
“Admit you like me, first.”
“I like you. You already know I like you. That I can’t keep whatever this is”—I gesture between us—“professional no matter how much I say that’s what I want.”
“I don’t import illegal drugs or anything illegal. I’m legit, Bri. I’m not my father. I don’t make deals with criminals.” There is a solemn oath in his words that penetrate deep within me, releasing that small ounce of reservation I had. Relief I didn’t know I was after washes over me.
In the next second, I’m kissing him.
“Thank you,” I say into his mouth, not stopping my assault on his lips.
“I want you.” He grabs my hips, grinding my pussy on the erection I feel growing between us. It’s causes tingles to filter up my spine and down the back of my legs.
I want him too. Jesus, his cock is solid through his jeans and I just want to rock back and forth against it.
To hell with it, I might as well, so I drop my ass, and then using his neck I pull myself forward.
His hands slip under my top, gliding up my back and everywhere he’s touching me leaves the most sensual trail behind him.
“I want you too.”
The sound of a soft whimper pulls me out of the blissful trance I’m in, making me groan.
Drago’s open mouth trails my throat, telling me he didn’t hear Gabe.
“D,” I call out.
In response, he unhooks my bra and I want nothing more than for him to take every strip of clothing off my body, but I need to tend to the baby first.
“Hold up,” I say, using my hands against his shoulders to push back. “I need to get Gabe in bed.”
He groans. “Now?” There is a plea in his question.
“I’ll be quick.”
He grinds me on his dick, trying to talk me out of getting off him and it almost works if it weren’t for the soft cry that comes from the chair.
I stand, quickly, before he does that again, making me cream in my panties.
I have to take a deep breath to calm the shaking of my body before I pick up the baby.
“There is nothing quick about putting kids to bed.” And the way he said it, it comes out like a pout, sounding like a kid himself.
“He’s already asleep, I just need to get him changed and in his bed.”
“Maybe I should go. Let you process all this and make sure it’s what you want.”
Picking up Gabe, I lay him the way he likes, chest to chest, but before turning, one side of my lips tip up while eyeing Drago. “Or you could stay.” And then I walk away.
* * *
Drago was right.
Gabriel had a wet diaper and by the time I got him changed he was wide-awake. It ended up taking me close to forty-five minutes to get him settled enough
to fall back to sleep, and by the time I was finished I was exhausted.
When I walked out of his room, Drago was stretched out on my couch, sleeping. He snores, but it’s not one of those deep, loud annoying snores that make you want to smother them with a pillow. It’s a soft, low rumble that’s actually cute. Not that I’d ever tell him that.
I almost didn’t wake him. I can’t tell you the satisfaction I got just watching him in such a somber, peaceful state. But selfishly I wanted in his arms exactly like I am now. I’ve been awake, lying here for ten minutes, unmoving. I don’t want to get up either, and since it’s Saturday, I can lay here until Gabe wakes wanting to be fed.
Neither one of us was in the mood to restart what had escalated in my living room. The moment was gone, and we were both tired. I crashed, sprawled across his chest within seconds of placing my head on his flesh. I don’t remember the last time I’ve slept so well. The past few weeks have been restless, but not last night.
I have no delusions. I know it has everything to do with Drago, and that makes knowing what I’m doing with him a little less guilt weighing on my soul. Sure, it’s not exactly right, but I believe him, and I know no one in my department would work to prove his innocence; quite the opposite actually. There’d been more efforts looking for anything that would suggest guilt.
My back is to his front and Drago has one arm wrapped around my chest, pinning me to him at my shoulder; his other hand is cupping my pajama-covered hip. The morning wood he’s been sporting since I woke is stabbing me in my ass and I swear he’s subconsciously trying to slice through my shorts with that thing.
The first sign I know he’s waking up is when he inhales against the back of my neck, making my stomach flutter with excitement. Next, his fingers dig into my hipbone, pulling my butt to his crotch. I moan, my eyes rolling back when he grinds into me and I’m starting to think he likes to do that to me.
“That feel good?” his gruff voice says from behind me; his breath tickling my skin.
“Mmmm,” is all I can manage to get out. It does feel good.
“I got something that’ll feel even better,” he hums.
Dirty Blue Page 13
